


By A Barista

by Tomatosoupful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Modern AU, Prosthetic Arm, Trying to be funny, coffee shop AU, i think, obikin, set in australia, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10474893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/pseuds/Tomatosoupful
Summary: Obi-Wan/Anakin, Modern Coffee Shop AU unapologetically set in Australia. Some Star Wars story lines and character arcs adapted into modern coffee versions.Anakin doesn't really know why Qui-Gon hired him despite having no experience in coffee making or table service, and he knows this bothers the barista, Obi-Wan, but hey, at least he gets to look at the handsome guy while he complains.-COMPLETE!-





	1. I freakin' love pugs

**Author's Note:**

> 95% of what happens during this mini story has happened to me at the cafe I work at.  
> Thank you MissLearn for the advice.

**LOOKING TO HIRE**

**BARISTA/WAITER WITH EXPERIENCE**

**FRIENDLY ATTITUDE**

**PART-TIME WORK**

“This is perfect.”

Anakin gave his mother a look. “No it isn’t,” he pointed to the sign stuck to café’s front glass door. “Look, ‘barista and waiter with experience.’ That’s not me.”

Shmi folded her arms and peered at the sign again. She shrugged light-heartedly, “You volunteered at the school charity once, surely that counts as experience.”

“Not the right experience mum,” Anakin reminded her. His grip on the folder carrying his resumé slackened. He was tempted to ‘accidentally’ let it drop into the puddles left behind by the recent rainfall. “Besides, I doubt they’re going to want someone like me in such a hands-on kind of job.”

Purposely avoiding his mother’s concerned gaze, Anakin concentrated on his prosthetic arm. He was thankful for the unusually cold weather for Sydney at this time of the year. Long-sleeved shirts were currently the norm and gloves completed the look rather than contradicted it. Anakin hardly found his arm a sob story but he didn’t miss the dubious expressions of employers whenever they realised his disability.

Shmi nudged her son playfully, “It never hurts to try. Don’t give up –”

“ –I’m not giving up,” Anakin interrupted. “I just know that this place wouldn’t want me regardless. I’ve never even touched a coffee machine. Hell, what is even the difference between a cappuccino and flat white?”

Shmi frowned, “I don’t think there is other than the chocolate on top.”

“Exactly, it’s all flashy and coffee tastes terrible anyway,” Anakin said. “I’ll find somewhere else. JB-HI-Fi would be a cool place.” He imagined himself dazzling the customers with his infinite knowledge on the latest technology and possibly getting discounts on DVDs.

“Ani, just try. Give them your resumé,” Shmi said, putting on that mother voice. You know, _that_ mother voice. “The worst they can say is no. Who knows, maybe they’ll find your willingness to try, despite your lack of experience, daring.”  

Anakin sighed and rolled his eyes, “Fine, I’ll do it. But there’s no way they’d think that.”

 

~o0o~

“I must admit, your willingness to try despite your lack of experience is quite daring.”

“What?”

The owner of the café chuckled at the other end of the phone. Anakin hadn’t expected this when he saw an unknown number flash up on his phone. He’d been ready to hear from one of the frustrating slackers he was forced to work with for a university group project. But no. Instead a man introduced himself as Qui-Gon Jinn and announced he was the proud owner of the Pug-Plant Café.

Anakin mind paused as it struggled to comprehend the café’s name.

The young man had been tempted to remark that he was the proud owner of possum droppings and the unfortunate witness to koalas humping in the gumtree positioned outside his bedroom, but then remembered all the advice his mother had given him. Reign in the smartass.

“I saw on your resumé that you attend the University of Sydney,” Qui-Gon continued brightly. A shuffling of paper was heard. “What’s it like studying engineering?” 

So. God. Damn. Awesome! “It’s good,” Anakin answered calmly. “Can be really hectic though. I have this class on Wednesday, for example, where the tutorial goes for three hours and by the end you’re practically begging to be let out.”

By this point the voice in his head that sounded like Shmi was doing the begging to keep his mouth shut and stop embarrassing himself already. However both it and Anakin were stumped when Qui-Gon only found amusement in the story. “I remember those classes,” Qui-Gon mused. “I attended the first two then stopped going all together.”

Anakin wondered what his mother would look like if he pulled the same stunt. His fantasies were cut short when Qui-Gon said, “Anyway. I was hoping you could come in on Thursday this week. I understand you don’t know much about coffee but I’m sure Obi-Wan and Padmé will be happy to show you.”

Anakin almost heard the wheels in his brain come to screeching halt. “Wait, wait, you want me to come in? But your flyer said –”

“ –I know what it said, I wrote it, despite what Tahl thinks,” Qui-Gon mumbled the last part. “Yet here I am holding a resumé of someone who defiantly handed it in anyway. I like that. Sounds like you’re worth training. You’ll like my two baristas, they’re very good teachers.”

“...Okay then,” Anakin managed. “I’ll see you…Thursday was it?”

“Yes, this Thursday,” Qui-Gon said. “See you then.”

Anakin gaped at his phone for a good few seconds. Before the koalas outside his bedroom window decided to have another go at each other. And before his mother knocked on the door, wearing a smirk that would make the humblest of nuns blush.

~o0o~

 _There’s no way he’s going to keep me once he realises_ , Anakin thought to himself as he entered the café. He fiddled with the sleeve around his prosthetic. The Skywalker family wasn’t especially bursting with money and while the funds from the National Disability Scheme had helped after the accident, Anakin wasn’t exactly sporting the highest tech.

This didn’t seem to matter to Qui-Gon Jinn. He did notice immediately but simply said that there would always be something for Anakin to do. “Cleaning,” Qui-Gon said with a sharp grin. “There is _always_ something to clean. Even when you think there’s nothing left, you’ll find something.”

Anakin remarked that the café did indeed look very clean. The wooden floor was spotless of sand from nearby beaches, the pale purple coloured walls were free from grim, and the help-yourself bottles of water and accompanying glasses off to the side of the counter almost sparkled with the bright Sydney light filtering through the large windows. Anakin lost count of the number of plants dotted here and there around the café. Each table had a bunch of daffodils, a few shrubs decorated every corner, and a large Bird of Paradise flower in all of its orange glory snagged newcomer’s attention straight to the counter. Overall, Anakin had to say the café looked alright. He didn’t really go to cafés but he was certain there was nothing offensive about it. Unlike that other one his step-dad took a liking to. Anakin had no clue why. He went there once and found a cockroach crawling across the floor.

Anakin’s eyes widened when he saw something familiar.

“Are you –? Is that a cockroach?”

Qui-Gon sighed loudly, got up, pulled out a spray from a cabinet behind the counter and sprayed the everlasting bejesus out of this cockroach. Qui-Gon did not even blink as the cockroach slowly but surely succumbed to the poison tucked away in the spray bottle. Once the corpse was tossed away into a bin Qui-Gon returned to the table.

Anakin grimaced, “Why is there a cockroach?”

“There’s _always_ cockroaches,” Qui-Gon answered. “We do everything we can but they always get in anyway.”

“Isn’t that a problem?” Anakin gaped. “Shouldn’t you call an exterminator?”

Qui-Gon snorted, “Do you know how expensive they are? We don’t bother. It’s Sydney. It’s by the beaches. _Every_ place has cockroaches. I’m not kidding, everyone has to deal with cockroaches. Just as long as they don’t go near the food and drinks, and we get rid of one when spotted, it’s fine. It’s the best we can do.”

“…Oh,” said Anakin. He considered that maybe he’d have to apologise to his step-father when he got home. He also wondered if maybe that was why Melbourne was considered better than Sydney.

“Anyway,” Qui-Gon clapped his hands together. “Obi-Wan should be here soon. Padmé arrives at nine. So, we’ll see how you go for today. You’ll be paid for your time here too.”

“How much?” blurted out of Anakin before societal mannerism could stop it.

Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t seem the type to offend easily however. “Twenty dollars an hour, sound alright with you?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Anakin replied knowing his mother would probably rant about her ridiculous pay rate as she was growing up in America once she heard about it. Anakin tapped a finger to a prosthetic one as an uncomfortable thought came strolling in. “Um, but are you sure you want to pay me? I’m only here for a trial and I don’t even know I’ll really be able to do much.”

“You’re giving up free time to work for me,” Qui-Gon reminded him. “It would be unfair – and against the law – to not pay you for your labour… unless, are you saying you don’t want the job?”

Before Anakin could speak, the café door opened. He turned instinctively to the noise. Walking in was a man who didn’t seem to know that his age was somewhere in the late twenties. The heavy bags under his stormy blue eyes looked as though they belonged to a new parent, the clean and crisp clothes he wore brought up memories of Anakin’s smelly grandfather, and the golden orange hair and matching beard seemed to balance between Baby Boomer professional and so achingly 23-year-old hipster that Anakin almost laughed right then and there. It was good thing he was too busy soaking in the sight otherwise the man would probably hate him.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. “This is Obi-Wan, one of the baristas. I hope you –”

Anakin turned back to him, “ –Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want the job,” Anakin said, sounding a little too close to the characters from musicals his mother favoured.

“Oh good,” Qui-Gon flashed him a smile before getting up to properly greet the man named Obi-Wan. “I don’t mean to sound the alarm but the coffee machine has died again.”

Obi-Wan slouched, “Again? I swear it’s those cockroaches.”

“Can’t be,” Qui-Gon said. “Surely the machine would be too hot for them.”

Immediately Anakin got up, “Maybe I can fix it. I study engineering. And I’m really good at machines. And I’m really good at handling hot stuff. In fact, I’m _really_ good at handling hot stuff. So, you know, show me the hot stuff.”

Judging by the amusement on Qui-Gon’s face and the confusion on Obi-Wan’s, Anakin calculated that he would have to bury his head into a pillow and scream for approximately five days before he could face the world again. Obi-Wan tucked a strand of orange hair behind his ear, “So, this is …?”

“This is Anakin,” Qui-Gon replied. Anakin straightened his back. “He’s going to be working with you and Padmé today. I need you two to show him how things are done.”

The confusion dissolved away and a far more welcoming smile appeared on Obi-Wan’s face. “Well, Anakin, we’re not too different from other cafés other than the bush dropping leaves everywhere –”

“ –the plants are pretty,” Qui-Gon muttered.

“ –Wonderful, I still have to clean up after them,” Obi-Wan mumbled sarcastically back. He switched back to Anakin and continued lightly, “So however you worked before will probably be similar to here. It shouldn’t take too long to learn.”

Anakin’s grin dropped. Qui-Gon spoke for him, “Ah, well Anakin has never worked at a café before. This is his first time. But he’s a smart boy, he’ll learn fast.”

All the warmth dashed away from Obi-Wan. He frowned at his boss. The two said nothing but stared and Anakin wondered if he maybe should duck and cover in case an argument broke out. Finally Obi-Wan snapped out of his stupor and gestured to the flyer still stuck to the café door, “Why do we even bother with that flyer then?”

“Good point,” Qui-Gon replied. He removed the sign with ease to avoid tearing the paper. “Now that Anakin will be working for us, we don’t need this.”

Both Anakin and Obi-Wan baulked. “Wait,” Anakin tried first. “You don’t even know if I’m good enough –”

“ –How do you even know this kid is worth keeping?” Obi-Wan cut in. Anakin swallowed thickly and grumbled at the man’s attitude.

Qui-Gon shook his head and pocketed his hands, “I have a feeling.” Anakin wasn’t sure whether to find Qui-Gon’s optimism something admirable or kind of scary. “I have to prepare the kitchen. Astrid is sure to arrive in half an hour and we both know how she likes her eggs cooked, so I’ll be off. Show Anakin the ropes!” he called out before dashing away into the back.

Anakin heard the cluttering and clambering of kitchenware and decided that Qui-Gon really did have things to do and wasn’t just running away from the discussion…just. Taking a deep breath Anakin readily faced Obi-Wan, keen to prove that he wasn’t as worthless as a working fireplace in Central Australia.

Obi-Wan had his hands on his hips. Despite this upfront display, Obi-Wan’s eyebrows were furrowed and a grimace toyed his lips. “Look, I don’t know what you did to impress Qui-Gon but colour me surprised. He wouldn’t hire me until I took my barista course so who knows what’s going through his head lately.”

“…Lately?” Anakin repeated. “What, does he have episodes of randomness or something?” Anakin high-fived himself in his head when the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth lifted.

“Come on, I’ll show you the coffee machine,” Obi-Wan said, annoyance still plaguing his voice. Anakin wasn’t sure if this was directed entirely at his existence or the fact the coffee machine was still dead to the world. Obi-Wan banged it a few times with his fists. The lights flashed green and the soft rumbling of the gears inside was heard. Obi-Wan jabbed at a booklet resting on the counter beside the coffee machine. “This is what you’ll be doing at first, taking the orders. Whatever they want, write it down. Once the order is done, cross it out.”

Anakin took a look through the pages filled to the brim with coffee orders. Here he was thinking there wasn’t much to coffee when there was actually so much variety. From the sizes (cups or mugs), to whether it was the usual coffee or decaf, to sugar or none, take way or stay in, cappuccino (or cap), flat white (FW) or latte or mocha, half strength, full strength, 3 quarters full …. “What kind of order is this?” Anakin read it out. “Decaf latte, 3 quarters hot water and one quarter foam? Did you do that?”

“No, poor Padmé did,” Obi-Wan answered with a faint snicker. “There are some odd orders. You get used to them. Someday I wonder if I’ll be unlucky enough to get a really strange order.”

“Like what?”

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully as he peered at all the containers and milk cartons. “Like… Mug decaf latte, with 1 quarter soy, 1 quarter almond milk, 1 quarter skim milk and 1 quarter hot water, a tiny bit of foam with chocolate on top, despite lattes not having any chocolate, a sprinkling of sugar but too little and not too much, and only fill three quarters of the mug. Something like that.”

“I’d hate to write that down,” Anakin answered twirling a pen in his hand.

“Now, if you could grab those red teapots behind us and the green tea, could you put in two spoons and then bring it to me? Qui-Gon likes his tea in the morning,” Obi-Wan pressed a few buttons and used the hot water to fill a tea cup and heat it up. “He likes to spend the morning having tea with his wife and pug when they visit.”

“Oh, okay,” Anakin spotted the red teapots instantly. With one hand, he grabbed a teapot, brought it down and then went for the green tea container. He did so slowly, as the container was wider than expected. He made sure his fingers were properly gripping the container before bringing it down. When he glanced sideways he noticed Obi-Wan watching with a frown.

“Why did you…?”

Anakin held up his prosthetic, “Well, this isn’t really that good at gripping. Good at holding shopping bags though. But don’t worry, I can do a lot with one hand.”

Obi-Wan looked grumpy again and Anakin’s heart raced. He tucked his prosthetic behind his back and waited. Obi-Wan pressed a particular button that made hot water run. “Fill up the teapot with hot water. You only need to press the button twice. Now excuse me, I need to have a chat with Qui-Gon.”

At that, Obi-Wan left.

Anakin held the teapot close. “Shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clean the cutlery properly god dammit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, gave the fic kudos and hell, gave it a chance and read it.  
> Do let me know if I mess anything up with Anakin's prosthetic. Trying to find that balance between acknowledging that life can be more difficult but that doesn't mean you're hopeless.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Obi-Wan asked again.

Following his wife’s advice Qui-Gon counted to five. Tahl always said counting did wonders for the brain, boring it and simultaneously calming it down at the same time. Qui-Gon counted a number with every slice of lettuce. “Yes Obi-Wan,” he grounded out. “I am confident in Anakin’s abilities. He has the right attitude and clearly isn’t stupid. I want to give him a chance.”

Obi-Wan rubbed at his temples and wiped away sweat from his forehead. The kitchen around him was hot and stifling but it was always like that. The air conditioning in this café was bad at the best of times. Obi-Wan suspected the only reason Qui-Gon had yet to faint from the kitchen’s overbearing heat was because he was used to spending trips away to the tropics with his wife. Obi-Wan meanwhile tended to favour cool climates and continuously wish Australia had better ski resorts to offer than the measly Perisher Blue and Thredbo.

“This just all seems unusual for you,” Obi-Wan tried again. “I thought you hiring that girl –”

“ –Ahsoka –”

“ –Ahsoka, was bad enough considering the first thing she did with the coffee machine was burn herself,” Obi-Wan remembered how he had to dashed to the freezer to grab ice for the poor girl. Giving her credit, she toughened it out. “But at least she’s worked as a waitress before, Anakin has nothing to his name.”

Qui-Gon ceased his chopping and finally made eye contact with Obi-Wan. At first, Obi-Wan was pleased that the milestone of basic eye contact in communication was achieved but then a shiver run up his spine when Qui-Gon gave a sneaky grin. “You’re very sprightly today,” Qui-Gon commented casually. “ _That’s_ unusual for you. Normally you just grumble to yourself in the bathroom yet here you are, throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m simply wanting answers. You _know_ how you behaved when I tried getting a job here. I had to be experienced in just about everything you can think of to even be given a chance. Yet here’s this kid. What am I supposed to think?”

Qui-Gon played with his shortly trimmed beard as he mused openly, “In _fact_ the last time you got this expressive was when that young man, Quinlan Vos, came in. Are you two still dating?”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged as he recognised he might as well be talking to a brick wall. “No, Quin doesn’t know the meaning of cleanliness. Amongst other things.”

“Maybe I should hire him too,” Qui-Gon suggested, taking great joy at the way Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. That boy always took the bait. Obi-Wan needed to loosen up a bit without someone like Quin whose carefree personality only served to further stress him out. “Truth is, Obi-Wan, I’ve turned over a new leaf. Both you and Tahl have been telling me that I need to give people chances, that I need to be ready to take risks.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. A container lid clicked as it was removed. Qui-Gon’s nose wrinkled at the strange smell wafting from whatever was inside. Qui-Gon tossed it away, curious as to whether that once editable object was originally going to be used for a recipe he had forgotten about. Tahl always liked it when he prepared a surprise dish for her. And as she gulped down her food she would bring up topics Qui-Gon never liked to approach, but only because his guard was down, feeling all warm and cosy that his wife liked his food so much.

Qui-Gon found another container of food, “I was sitting with Cinderella a few days ago – I have photos of her by the way chewing on a plastic hotdog, you should see Obi-Wan. She is so cute –”

“ –I _know_ she’s cute Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth. Too often did he have to babysit the little black pug.

“And anyway, I was flicking through the resumés with Cinderella sitting on my lap. I found Anakin’s and had a good laugh that he put his lacking resumé in,” Qui-Gon continued. “But then I couldn’t decide who to pick. So I laid out the resumé and told Cinderella to choose. She sat on Anakin’s resumé and promptly peed on. Anakin’s job here was meant to be.”

“Okay, I’m done,” Obi-Wan groaned, walking away.

“No, Obi-Wan, I insist,” Qui-Gon said with a large shit-eating grin. “I was encouraged by Cinderella and the impressionable words from you and Tahl. I had to give Anakin a chance.”

“Enough, I’m going back outside.”

At that, Obi-Wan left the kitchen. Qui-Gon chuckled to himself as he got back to work. Then a thought occurred to him, “…Where’s my tea?”

~o0o~

Anakin glumly stared at a potted plant. It was a small cactus plant, round and rimmed with spikes. A tiny red flower was perched on top like a crown. What was unique about this plant was its placement. It sat in a pot shaped like a pug. This polished clay, painted black, pug pot had its tongue sticking out to greet the customers. Next to it was a batch of menus. Anakin inspected the dog tag around its neck and read, _Pug-Plant Café_.

Anakin still wasn’t sure what to think of the café’s name.

Although Anakin couldn’t hear precisely what Obi-Wan was saying, he could still hear voices coming from the back. Going by the aggravated tone, there wasn’t much room to mistake what Obi-Wan was talking about. Which Anakin truthfully found kind of rude. Alright, so Anakin wasn’t the pinnacle of perfection but he was like this before the accident, thank you. If anything, Shmi often proudly remarked that her son’s intelligence was reflected in his ability to adapt to his new arm. Every time she did, Anakin could feel his cheeks burn but he wasn’t going to sell himself short either. Whoever this Obi-Wan guy thought he was, well, screw him.

So he can make coffees. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Anakin can tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue. Something infinitely cooler than whatever else Obi-Wan can do. Anakin was reconsidering if whether the guy’s pretty orange hair was maybe better than his cherry talent when Obi-Wan returned. Anakin hadn’t known Obi-Wan for very long but even he thought it was unfair to label the guy’s current grumpy expression as his default one. Although, the frown certainly looked comfortable on those finely shaped features. Anakin was used to earning frowns from teachers and bullies, so he was pleased that at least Obi-Wan looked far more appealing than most. Especially when Anakin himself was most likely the root of Obi-Wan’s so-called problem.

Speaking of, Obi-Wan hadn’t even looked at Anakin. He was apparently too busy concentrating on running a few coffee shots through. It was almost hypnotising to watch the way Obi-Wan flicked the switches, measured the correct amount of grinded coffee beans, flattening them in the porta filter and then clipped it into the machine. With another press of a button, the two shots ran through like a waterfall into positioned cups.

It was all nice and pleasant until Obi-Wan had to ruin it by muttering, “Are you bringing the tea to Qui-Gon or will you be needing help with that?”

Anakin rolled his eyes. He purposely exaggerated his movements as he placed a cup onto a saucer, waving a silver spoon in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes, before putting it daintily on the saucer as well. Then he picked that up and balanced it on the flat surface of the teapot. All with one hand. Before the barista could comment, Anakin picked up the teapot and held his prosthetic against it to ensure balance was maintained. Now if Anakin wanted to return home tonight to inform his mother that he had remained polite all day, and therefore be rewarded with the last of Shmi’s special home-made brownies then he’d keep his mouth shut. Too bad, his step-father ate the last brownie yesterday night.

“Oh and Obi-Wan? Are you going to get that stick out of your ass or do you need my special arm to help you?”

Just as Obi-Wan’s jaw faintly dropped (Anakin firmly believed it was due to his a- _mazing_ comeback, while Obi-Wan truthfully couldn’t _believe_ this kid thought that was clever), the door to the café opened. A small woman with frizzy hair shuffled in and flashed a smile of pearly white teeth. Anakin rushed through the painted white saloon doors to the back of the café.

“Ah, that’s what I need!” Qui-Gon warmly accepted his tea.

Anakin soaked in the kitchen in its entirety. Clean of course but not exactly organised…

…why was it so hot?

“A customer, this old lady, has just come in,” Anakin mentioned.

“Does she smell like mothballs and vegemite?” Qui-Gon asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Anakin blinked. “Uh, I don’t know. I didn’t see –uh smell her.”

As Qui-Gon peeked through a small rectangular shaped window between the kitchen and the café, Anakin wondered what exactly mothballs and vegemite smelt like together. Qui-Gon turned to Anakin again, “It’s Astrid. Lovely lady. She either comes in for breakfast and wants her eggs not _too_ soft but not _too_ hard either. Or, she comes in the afternoon and _always_ gets an orange almond mini-cake. I like Astrid. Consistent.”

“Oh,” said Anakin. “Should I go out or…?”

“Nah, let Obi-Wan do it,” Qui-Gon replied. “Astrid _looooooves_ Obi-Wan.”

Anakin crossed his arms (flinching slightly when the edge of the prosthetic rubbed uncomfortably against his upper arm) and mumbled, “Don’t know what’s there to love.”

“You haven’t noticed the hair?” Qui-Gon asked curiously.

Anakin blinked. Again.

“Oh, so you did notice the hair,” Qui-Gon grinned sharply. “Everyone _always_ notices the hair.”

Sighing, Anakin was done with the conversation, “If you have the time, would you mind showing me how things work? Like, is there anything you want me to do?”

At that Qui-Gon showed Anakin the industrial washing machine and sink. Hot water, soap, let the dirty dishes and cup soak, give them a clean with a sponge, then put them into the washing machine. Let it rip. Don’t touch them immediately afterwards. Your hands will hate you. And for the love of all things good, scrub the cutlery hard because too many times, have knives and forks come out with cheese cemented to them.

Next Anakin was directed to a cupboard containing cloths, a safe, a lost-items box, a place to put one’s belongings, and a first-aid kit. Beside it and just before the bench Qui-Gon used for chopping, was a massive fridge containing everything a good chef needs. “You don’t really need to go here except to put wrapped up meals away at the end of the day and for the yoghurt,” Qui-Gon instructed.

“Okay,” Anakin nodded.

The saloon doors opened and Obi-Wan came in holding a small sheet of paper with a docket clipped together. Neat curly handwriting on the paper spelt out ‘Astrid’s usual.’ Qui-Gon accepted it and said, “Perfect timing Obi-Wan. Anakin, if there’s an order for the kitchen, you write it down on the small notepad, have the customer pay, and clip the docket to the note. Then bring it to me.”

“Alright.”

Qui-Gon read the note then smiled cheekily at Obi-Wan, “What’s this? ‘Astrid’s Usual.’ I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Obi-Wan took the longest most agonising deep breath imaginable before exiting back outside. Qui-Gon chuckled then added to Anakin, “For the record, Astrid’s usual are two eggs with spinach and one piece of brown toast for twelve dollars.”

“Yup.”

Outside behind the counter, Qui-Gon ignored Obi-Wan’s insistence that he should be making Astrid’s breakfast instead of training Anakin, and simply continued training Anakin whilst occasionally making eye contact with Obi-Wan and flashing teasing smiles. Anakin thoroughly enjoyed watching this. He was then shown the cash register. “This here, is the till,” Qui-Gon said. “There are the buttons here for the meals, which you can look up at the menus here.”

The two menus were stuck to the tiled wall with blu-tack above the cash register. Qui-Gon showed Anakin the most important buttons, “See here? The coffee button? Press once for one order. If it is a mug, press the coffee button first, and then the mug which adds the fifty cents. Then press _this_ button, which says to the till that the order is paid for.”

The cash register popped open to reveal money side. Anakin saw the purple five dollar notes and one yellow fifty dollar, but the pink twenties and blue ten dollar notes were missing. Qui-Gon muttered that he’d get to the bank as soon as Astrid’s meal was done. Luckily all the coins from the two dollars to the useless five cents were tucked inside. A paper docket slithered out from the register. Qui-Gon took it and poked through a paper spike to the side. “Put every docket that’s not for the kitchen on this. And I do mean every single one of them. It’s how I keep track of the money.”

Qui-Gon then pointed at the rectangular window from before between the café and kitchen. There was another paper spike. “I put the meals there. You get cutlery, take the meal, and spike the dockets as well. Understood?”

Anakin nodded again, “Yeah. All good.”

Qui-Gon gave Anakin a pat on the shoulder then finally did as Obi-Wan asked and got to Astrid’s meal. Anakin felt his heart beginning to race when another customer entered but with the knowledge still fresh in his mind, Anakin approached the situation confidently. He twirled the pen with his fingers, “Hey there –”

The pen slipped from his fingers and was flung away.

“Shit,” fell out. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Anakin hastily said at the customer’s concerned gaze. “Um, good morning. What would you like?”

The man fidgeted with his glasses and muttered, “Flat White please.”

“Okay,” Anakin swore mentally this time when he realised there was no other pen. He grabbed a pencil off to the side and practically dug it into the notebook as he wrote out ‘FW’ with its blunt end. When Anakin put the order in, his finger twitched and accidentally pressed the button twice, bringing the order up to seven dollars. “Three fifty, please.”

The man handed over a fifty dollar note.

Anakin’s pondered who he had pissed off today, other than Obi-Wan, to deserve this. The cash register still only had the five dollar notes. Anakin cursed under his breath for every five dollar note counting up to the change, forty six fifty. He handed the man a bundle of the notes and the coins.

The man frowned, “What’s with all the fivers?”

Anakin wasn’t entirely sure what to say there. He didn’t want to throw Qui-Gon under a bus.

“The bank flooded last week,” Obi-Wan’s voice entered. He was pouring full-cream milk into a jug. “We’ve had to rely on the only cash we had left. Luckily, the bank is reopening today. So if it’s not too much of a hassle, we could quickly run there, get the cash and give you what you want.”

The customer relaxed, “Oh, nah, nah. Don’t worry about it. I was just wondering. Just looked a bit, you know, odd.” He chuckled and was joined by Obi-Wan. Anakin silently took their interaction in, wondering where the hell was this friendly Obi-Wan before. The customer left the counter, grabbed the conservative newspaper he had been reading since he was fifteen and found a corner in the café to sit.

Anakin didn’t get the chance to interrogate Obi-Wan. The barista sprinkled chocolate onto the coffee, covering one half while leaving the other brown side, decorated with a leaf made from froth. “Hey, that looks really good.”

Obi-Wan paused then buried down a smile. “It’s nothing really,” he said. “It’s just coffee.”

“Yeah but it’s pretty coffee,” Anakin encouraged. “I don’t even like coffee but I’d drink that.”

“…Thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured softly. “Uh, that’s for Astrid. Extra hot cappuccino.”

“Okay,” Anakin replied picking the cappuccino up. For a second he was afraid it would overspill but the froth on top stayed intact and only added to the coffee’s appealing look. When he bent down and slid the coffee to Astrid, the old lady asked for his name then gushed over its uniqueness.

“So, you’re going to be working here?” she asked kindly.

“Ah, yeah, I reckon so.”

“Oh good. I like you already.”

Once the pen was found, the following half an hour went by smoothly. Customers came in, ordered breakfast and drinks, were usually patient with Anakin’s gradual learning of the cash register once realising he was new. Food was made and appreciated. The coffee was admired. Anakin frowned at the empty tip cup, “My mum would be horrified.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “What do we need tips for? We’re paid just fine. Now, that mango smoothie, I need you to get the yoghurt, frozen mango and ice-cream from the back fridge.”

Anakin stared at him. “What?” Obi-Wan asked. “We have an order. Get a move on.”

“Did you just say yoghurt that way?” Anakin snorted. “How did you say it, yaw-gurt? Where are you from, the freakin’ UK? It’s _yo_ -gurt.”

“…I am not having this discussion with you.”

“Only because you know I’m right,” Anakin teased.

Obi-Wan threw up his hands, “Okay. I’ll do it myself.”

Anakin snickered as Obi-Wan retreated through the saloon doors. Anakin played with the pen again, thumping it against the counter as though it was a drum. Until he spotted one of the customers shaking their heads at his performance. Everybody’s a critic! Another customer came in and walked towards him with the kind of confidence found in natural born leaders.

“Morning. How may I help you?”

“Hey, are you the new guy?” the young woman asked.

Anakin placed the pen down as the woman came round and joined him at the back. “Yeeeah. My name’s Anakin. I’ve just started today.”

“Must have, seen as how I didn’t catch you yesterday,” the woman replied with a big and bright smile. Her long brown hair was tied up into a high pony-tail and her finely fitted clothes were bursting with crazy patterns that should have clashed but came together by the unifying colour of blue, reminding Anakin of Japanese kimonos. “I’m Padmé, by the way. And if you hear Qui-Gon calling someone ‘Keating’, he’s talking about me. Just heads up.”

Already, Padmé was ten times nicer than Obi-Wan. Anakin found himself feeling relaxed and at ease as though he was back in high school surrounded by his mates.

Behind them, Obi-Wan came through the saloon door, holding a blender filled with the ingredients for a mango smoothie. He was calling out over his shoulder, “ _No_ , Qui-Gon, there’s no incorrect way to say yoghurt!”

“Hey Obi-Wan,” Padmé greeted. “You look like you need a mocha. Want me to make you one?”

“Yes please.”

As Obi-Wan took care of the smoothie, Anakin followed Padmé as she prepared the drink by the coffee machine. By the ease and comfort in her movements, Anakin guessed correctly that she was the other professional barista for the Pug-Plant Café. “Why are you making his drink? Why can’t Obi-Wan just do it himself?”

“We make drinks for others all the time,” Padmé answered patiently. She squeezed chocolate sauce into a latter glass. “It’s nice when someone else does it for us. And I don’t mind. Obi-Wan makes my hazelnut lattes.”

Anakin was keen to get to know Padmé a little more and find out what the hell a ‘Keating’ was but the café’s blender was one of the loudest he had ever come across and absolutely _nothing_ was heard for a good minute. That customer better enjoy her mango smoothie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astrid is based off one of my regulars whose name also starts with A. She is sooo lovely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the live-action Beauty and the Beast. I'm sorry. Just, I really enjoyed it. Ewen McGregor was such a a babe. He sings wonderfully.

When a fat cheerful black pug came bounding into the café at high speed and crashing into the counter, Anakin could only stare. He too had a dog, a Jack Russel, that slept all day and stole three quarters of the bed. So to witness such a ball of energy running at high speed was quite the experience. Obi-Wan and Padmé however did not even flinch. Obi-Wan was sprinkling cinnamon onto a chai latte with careful precision, while Padmé was wrapping the cutlery into napkins. The pug recovered, its rolling fat jiggling everywhere as she shook her head, and then proceeded to disappear into the kitchen. Just as Qui-Gon’s voice could be heard going all mushy and high-pitch, a woman entered the café.

It had been a while since Anakin had seen a woman look so stylish with minimal effort but this lady pulled it off spectacularly. She walked towards the counter with a strut that hinted of a past in ballet. Moving her sunglasses to the top of her head, the woman flash a smile of perfect teeth and said, “Morning everyone. Things going well?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Padmé gravitated towards the woman, “Hey Tahl. I’m well. Would you like lemon-grass or green tea today?”

The named woman, Tahl, agonised over the choices before selecting the lemon-grass. “That’ll do me good,” she convinced herself. Tahl’s dark brown eyes finally landed on Anakin who tried to look busy wiping the same spot over and over again. “ _Oooooooh_. So you’re the newbie. How’s university going for you? Are student unions still alive and well, or have they died off too?”

“Uh…” Anakin admittedly remembered seeing something along the lines at the university’s O-week but he wasn’t really a political kind guy. “They’re around, I guess. Talking, you know.”

“Just talking? What a shame?” Tahl replied, her tone playful. “In my day, I took part in all the student protests _and_ I punched a guy too. Those were the glory days.”

The pug returned and was joined by Qui-Gon who said, “Tea?”

“Tea,” Tahl agreed. She patted her leg and the pug came to her side, “Good girl, Cinderella.”

Before Tahl was able to join Qui-Gon and Cinderella, she caught the eye of Obi-Wan who gestured her to come over. Anakin wondered what they were going to say but Padmé gave him a task. She pointed to a couple that just arrived with a young toddler.

“First, you’ll want to offer them a high chair,” Padmé instructed. “Then, if they want it, I’ll show you where it is.” Anakin wished Padmé hadn’t abandoned him to socialising with the family alone. However, he quickly forgave when Padmé gave his performance a thumbs up. At the back, tucked away near the industrial washing machine, was a single wooden high chair. Padmé picked it up, “We only got one so if another is needed, well…”

Anakin shrugged his shoulders, “Tough shit?”

Padmé smirked and nodded, “Tough shit.” She momentarily struggled with her balance, bitterly moaning her lacking physical strength and the design of the high chair that made it difficult to carry properly. “Hey, Anakin, could you help?”

Anakin frowned, “Uh, I mean, sure. I’ll do the best I can.” He showed off his hand.s

It didn’t take long for Padmé to realise. “Oh! _Oh_!” Padmé put the high chair down and lightly smacked her forehead. She gave a regretful laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realise.”

“It’s fine,” Anakin said, helping anyway. There was a small tingly feeling in his chest. Padmé reaction was one of the better ones, casually accepting it and then moving on. As they moved the high chair along, the squirting of milk as it boiled in the distance, Anakin asked, “So, why are you called Keating? What does that even mean?”

Padmé bashfully grinned, “Well, Qui-Gon is referring to Paul Keating, he was our Prime Minister in the 80s and he was a guy who really wanted to be in politics. At 18 he had joined the Labor Party and was vowing to become Prime Minister, so can you guess what my goals are?”

“Oh!” Anakin understood. He was glad they had reached the table. His one hand and arm were sore and strained. He and Padmé placed it down carefully and once the toddler was fitted in nicely, the two went back to the counter. “So you’re into politics and all that?”

Padmé’s eyes sparkled as she struggled to contain her excitement, “ _Yes_! I could go on. Believe me, I could. Just ask Obi-Wan. I can tell you everything there is. I study it at university and I got another year to go after this semester. Then, I’ll work for a local MP and then I’ll –” When Padmé said she could go on, she meant it. The young lady gushed with extravagance about Australian politics, bitching about those she hated and explained with joy why the politicians she admired were so great. Turns out, Padmé wasn’t just studying politics but also modern history.

By the time Obi-Wan tasked Padmé with three kids sized milkshakes to make, Anakin’s knowledge about Australian politics had tripled.

~o0o~

“No.”

“But –”

“ – _No_ , Qui-Gon.”

“I was _just_ joking.”

“And you pushed it too far, dear,” Tahl patted her husband’s hand. “You and I both know what Obi-Wan is like. And we both know what you are like. You know your jokes can turn nasty, even when you don’t mean it. You will go in there and apologise, understand?”

Cinderella moaned. Qui-Gon glanced down to see Cinderella drooling all over his shoes. Her bulging black eyes begged for attention. Qui-Gon thought over his discussion with Tahl. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that yes, she was correct. He peered through the large glass windows to watch Obi-Was as the young man finished off a coffee. Anyone passing by would see the dedication and care Obi-Wan poured into his coffee-making. Even when feeling his worst, Qui-Gon would proudly admit that the best aspect of Obi-Wan was his effort in everything, regardless of the task. Compared to how Qui-Gon’s last barista went, he couldn’t ask for a better worker than Obi-Wan.

“Alright,” Qui-Gon agreed peacefully. Tahl recognised her husband’s enlightenment and drank her tea with contained delight. Qui-Gon rubbed Cinderella’s chin, wiped his hand from the slobber, then collected the empty cups and teapots. “I’ll get back to the kitchen then. See you tonight.”

“See ya,” Tahl gave a small wave.

The married couple gave each other a goodbye kiss and went their separate ways. Inside the café, Qui-Gon counted the customers and was pleased with the numbers. He dropped off the cups and teapots at the sink where Padmé was dutifully scrubbing and noted Anakin reading instructions on making a chocolate frappe, all while bringing out the required ingredients from the fridge. With those two young ones focused on their tasks, Qui-Gon headed to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was cleaning the coffee machine. Nothing unusual. Obi-Wan cleaned out the porta filters and rinsed off the group head, the part where hot water flowed from the machine and into the porta filter, collecting the coffee from the grinded beans and releasing the shots below. After every shot, the group head would collect left over wet grinded beans that needed a clean. It was recommended to rinse off after three shots which Padmé followed but Obi-Wan did so after every shot, even if the line was getting long, unfortunately.

Once the machine was cleaned, Obi-Wan got right back to making another coffee and taking a sip from the mocha Padmé had made him. Qui-Gon side-stepped to him and simply decided to go in full swing, “I apologise for my behaviour. It was very rude and I promise to stop. All good?”

“…What?” Obi-Wan frowned.

“…I said, ‘I apologise for my behaviour. It was very –”

“ –You don’t need to repeat –”

“ –‘rude and I promise to stop. All good?’”

Obi-Wan’s stare only lasted so long. He visibly relaxed and allowed a befuddled smile. “Yes, all good,” the young man said. “ _However_ , I also reserve the right to let you know when you’re towing the line.”

“I can deal with that,” Qui-Gon settled. He watched as Obi-Wan made a latte. Starting slowly, pouring the boiled milk in circles and keeping the liquid a light brown. When it reached three quarters of the glass, Obi-Wan rapidly released the froth. He shook his wrist, making a squiggly white line along the top before bring it down through the middle, creating a leaf. Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder, “Very good. I’ll take that out for you.”

“Thank you.”

As Obi-Wan threw out the leftover milk, he admired his clever thinking. Always use Tahl to reach through Qui-Gon’s thick head.

~o0o~

It was one in the afternoon and every muscle in Anakin’s body ached. He stretched his back until it cracked and when he tried again, Obi-Wan shooed him away to the kitchen because apparently his behaviour was unsightly and uncivilised. “Yeah, okay,” Anakin murmured under his breath.

However no matter what Anakin tried, his body still pleaded for a bed to lie down in. His feet especially were screaming. It felt as though he had completely flattened the bottom of feet. Anakin flinched every time he walked. Anakin dried off a wet spot on the counter and then looked out into the arcade where the café was located. Right across from the Pug-Plant Café was a massage place. He read a sign that displayed its prices which only made Anakin feel worse.

“Oh no,” Padmé spoke up.

“What?”

“Okay, look, why don’t you sit down and have a lunch break,” she suggested. “You need it. Don’t go to that massage place. You’ll regret it.”

“Why, is it bad?”

“No, it’s too good.”

Anakin timidly requested an omelette which Qui-Gon attended to immediately. In the meantime though, while the food was being cooked, Anakin had to continue working until his meal was ready and the half hour break could commence. He greeted another customer and took their order, half-heartedly scribbling down their order. He handed it over to Qui-Gon and returned to Obi-Wan’s side.

“I’m just letting you know,” Obi-Wan began. “I’ve had a head and shoulders massage there and it was the best experience of my life.”

Anakin mood darkened when he spotted the mirth playing on Obi-Wan’s face. “Shut up.”

“No, really, they’re experts. They put hot rocks onto your back without extra charge –”

“ – _Stop_ , please.”

Qui-Gon swung the saloon doors open. He was holding the docket with a frown. “Anakin, what does this say? I can’t read it.”

Anakin looked over the boss’ shoulder. He bit his bottom lip. “Uh…” Anakin touched the paper as his eyes narrowed trying to decipher his handwriting, “Lamri -lambri -uh, lapri –no, um, almost looks like leprechauns –”

“ – Ask the customer again,” Qui-Gon requested patiently. “Then write it properly this time. And next time.”

When Anakin did as he was told (“Lamb Shank,” he said writing it down), handed the docket back to Qui-Gon and returned to the counter, Obi-Wan noticed the shame riddling the young man’s face. “Don’t feel too bad,” he said. “It’s just a mistake. We all do it. I’ve done it.”

“You? You and your fancy-ass handwriting?” Anakin snorted.

“It’s not fancy, it’s just legible,” Obi-Wan retorted light-heartedly. He looked up when he heard someone grumbling. “Alright there, Padmé?”

Padmé stood by the front door holding a broom. She placed the broom aside, loosened her messy hair, then tied it all back up roughly. She grabbed the broom again in a way that suggested it had personally offended her and swept the floor. Anakin noticed all the sand collected at the bottom. Padmé huffed, “This is the worst part of this place. I hate working near a beach. All this god damn sand! I swear, I don’t go through one god damn hour without a shit ton of sand here.”

“Calm down Padmé,” Obi-Wan chuckled.

Anakin snickered, “Yeah, I hate sand. It gets everywhere.”

“It does!” Padmé exclaimed. She bent down with a dustpan and mini broom, collecting the sand and getting more frustrated as some of the sand refused to go in. She overheard Anakin mention that he used to have kids at school tease him for his displeasure of sand but she answered back, “No, I get it Anakin. This shitty sand is the worst.”

Padmé glared the last few specks of sand that outright refused to join the dustpan as though she had offended the great sand god. Giving up, the young woman took what she had collected and tossed it into a bin. She sighed loudly, “I’m _so_ sorry. I just really hate that part of my job.”

Anakin leaned against the counter, took a few more orders, as Padmé went back and forth between them and the washing machine dropping off freshly cleaned cups and spoon. When Anakin gave her a questioning look, Padmé muttered something about white kitchenware requiring a good proper clean and no she wasn’t obsessed, why would you think that? Obi-Wan meanwhile was assessing his boiled milk with an unhappy expression. He sloshed it around before pouring it, making a flat white. Except to Anakin, it looked a little flatter than normal. Anakin picked it up but flinched when it spilled over the saucer.

“Shit, sorry,” he said hastily, putting it down and grabbing a cloth.

“No, that was my fault,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I knew the milk was bad. Hoped it wasn’t. I’ll just make another.”

“You sure?”

“Anakin, no matter how many times you make a coffee, you’re going to mess it up occasionally,” Obi-Wan said diplomatically. He washed off the portafilter. “Sometimes Padmé or I will have ‘bad milk days’ as we call it, and we just have to let the other do the job. It happens.”

“Okay,” Anakin nodded. He nervously tapped the notebook. “So… it wasn’t my fault then?”

Obi-Wan ceased his movement. “In no way was it your fault,” he said firmly but with kindness as well. “You’re fine Anakin. I have no problem with you or how you work.”

Anakin burst into a grin so large it hurt his cheeks. Obi-Wan tackled with the notion of informing Anakin how nice a smile looked on him when a large voice interrupted their moment.

“ _Excuse me_! What are you doing?”

Obi-Wan and Anakin turned to see Padmé giving a middle-age woman a frown. Between them was an eleven-year-old boy holding a pink marshmallow. Padmé shrugged, “He wanted a marshmallow. I gave him one. Is there a problem?”

The mother gave an exasperated nod, “ _Yes_ , I want a white marshmallow for my son. Jeremy, give her back the pink one. You don’t like pink marshmallows.”

“But mum –”

“ –Now, Jeremy.”

The boy shrivelled. Padmé rolled her eyes and handed him a white marshmallow, “Here. Take both.”

Before the mother could say anything, the boy grinned at Padmé and stuffed both marshmallows into his mouth. Padmé, hands on her hips, watched the annoyed mother and cheerful boy leave and thought to herself that she was going to be an amazing politician!  (“You’re such a star, Keating,” Qui-Gon would later compliment.)

Anakin relaxed and found himself completely related to that boy’s happiness. He ate his omelette for lunch, was paid by Qui-Gon and then promised to return tomorrow and officially begin his job at the Pug-Plant Café.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Yes, I promise you, that marshmallow incident really did happen with me. 
> 
> So I got myself a Nintendo Switch and Legend of Zelda, Breath of the Wild, which is both a good and a bad thing. I am going back and forth between work, writing and gaming, and I'm just wishing I had all the time in the world to just write and play my games.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another chapter.  
> I do want to quickly let people know not to take this too seriously. This is fic made from me indulging myself and just writing for fun so I'm sorry if the writing itself is not very good. I just want a way to vent out my frustration and peculiar experiences working as a barista but try to make it fun for everyone else.

“Who ordered 15 packs of soy milk?” Qui-Gon asked. Head in his hands, Qui-Gon was almost afraid to look at the large pile of cardboard boxes teasing him from the floor. He tried to imagine where the hell they were going to put all of them.

Obi-Wan immediately scrambled through all the save files in his brain to figure out where he went wrong and how he could make it up to his boss. He was the one who had rung their supplier to order the next batch of soy milk but he swore he hadn’t ordered 15 packs. “I um…only ordered 5 packs.” As he said this, Obi-Wan took out his phone from his pants pocket and texted Padmé. Looking at the time, she would be out of class by now.

Qui-Gon nodded at Obi-Wan’s answer then turned to his newest workers, “Anakin –”

“ –I don’t even know how to order this stuff,” Anakin defended, palms raised.

Beside him Ahsoka Tano leaned against the counter pursing her lips, “I _think_ I ordered a batch too. Only 5 though, I swear.” She added quickly when Qui-Gon gave her a look.

Obi-Wan’s phone chimed. “Padmé ordered a batch too.”

Qui-Gon sighed heavily, “Communication is a wonderful thing everyone. Talk to each other in the future. I have breakfast to make so all of you get the lucky job of finding out where to put 90 cartons of soy milk.” The boss retreated, mumbling about the comfort of his own home and snuggling his dog.

Anakin turned to his co-workers. Obi-Wan swiftly pointed out the numerous coffee orders he had to attend to and apologised that sadly, he was in no position to aid in the soy milk. Ahsoka rolled her eyes, grabbed some scissors and confronted the pile. Anakin joined her, figuring now was the time to get to know the youngest member working at the café. The nineteen-year-old was only slightly younger than Anakin but well on her way to towering over everyone, except for the boss. Anakin had gone to greet her with the usual ‘good morning, how are you?’ only for Ahsoka to plead and beg Obi-Wan for another chance at the coffee machine.

“I swear, I got it this time,” Ahsoka tried, hands clasped together.

“Not now,” Obi-Wan insisted. “Later when it’s not so busy.”

Ahsoka had huffed, “You’ve said that a million times.”

Obi-Wan’s lip had curled, “I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.”

Ahsoka then promptly concentrated on rolling up the cutlery in napkins but not before muttering, “You’re such a dad.” She had given Anakin a courteous wave before getting busy with the morning breakfast rush.

The two barely had the chance to interact beyond instructing each other and offering to take the food or coffee. Finally though, the rush had calmed down to only a few special customers who enjoyed their breakfast late, and the newcomers were ready to have a chat when a deliveryman dropped off a number of cardboard boxes. Anakin grimaced at how long the task would take with his ability to only grasp with one hand. He pointed this out to Ahsoka, who saw his disability, then assured him that she didn’t go to the gym for nothing before flexing her arm muscles. Anakin admired them for a brief moment, however a thought occurred, “Won’t most of this soy expire before we get to use it?”

“Nah, soy takes a while to expire,” Ahsoka answered. “I mean, look at this date. It’s fine. Besides, this café is in a middle-class white suburban neighbourhood. Shit like this and almond milk is going to sell out quickly.”

Anakin thought of his mother and wondered if she’d get offended by that. “So I’m guessing you don’t like soy milk?”

Ahsoka shrugged, “Nah, I’m cool with it. I’m allergic to milk. I have soy. Speaking of, hey Obi-Wan, can you make me a soy double shot cappuccino? Thanks.” She turned back to Anakin. “When I finally boil soy milk correctly, I’m going to make them for myself all the time and get addicted to cappuccinos, I know it.”

The two proceeded to find any place they could to put the soy cartons. Some were put up on display to sell along with the eggs produced by Tahl’s chickens and mini packs of coffee beans. Others were stored away under the large couch taking up the whole wall on the left side of the café. Ahsoka and Anakin grunted as they lifted the heavy seat. Anakin cursed when he felt a muscle strain, he didn’t need his café arm to screw up on him. However, even once the usual storage space was filled up, there were plenty of soy cartons to go, so they positioned a few behind Obi-Wan beside the almond milk, raw sugar, decaf and chocolate powder packets. When there was only one left, Ahsoka considered just sneaking it home when Obi-Wan snatched it from her hand and opened it up to use on a family of soy drinkers who had just ordered.

“So, Ahsoka,” Anakin spoke up, now that the soy challenge was over. “What are you doing? Outside of this, I mean.”

“I’m at TAFE,” Ahsoka answered. “I study concept art. It’s awesome except for the price but hey, at least I don’t have to pay it off now, right?” Anakin soaked in her appearance and understood why she was studying concept art. She must have been searching for a canvas beyond her own body because she had made a fine work of it. Her long hair was dyed a dark blue, curled into dreadlocks and sporting a Sailor Moon hairstyle with two buns sitting on top like bunny ears. She had used white liquid paper to draw pretty pictures of stars and galaxies onto her hands and arms, the white contrasting against her black skin. Each nail was painted a different colour, her right hand was rainbow and the other was pink, purple and blue. Her firetruck red boots melted into maroon leggings that climbed up her legs to a green shirt decorated with a peacock made from plastic jewellery. Ahsoka reminded Anakin of a Jackson Pollock painting, splashes of colour smacked together, creating a sense of harmony in their chaos. “I need this job to pay for my text books and art supplies. Student welfare payments can only pay for so much.”

“True,” Anakin said, thinking of all the money he spent just for transport to his university.

Ahsoka then turned to Obi-Wan again and flashed a smile of pearly white teeth fitted with purple coloured braces, “So, Obi-Wan, can I have a play with the coffee machine now? I’m sure I’ve got it this time.”

Obi-Wan stepped aside, “Alright. Just don’t –”

Ahsoka jumped to the machine, grabbed a latte glass so rapidly it slipped from her grasp and smashed onto the tiled ground, its shattered pieces reached all corners of the space behind the counter. Obi-Wan and Anakin stared at Ahsoka who sheepishly shrugged.

“ –break anything,” Obi-Wan numbly finished. He sighed, “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“I’ll do it,” Ahsoka reassured him dismissively. “Right after I make this coffee. Let’s see, number 4 wants a weak latte. I can do that.” The girl put the shots in but Anakin noticed that the shots came out in drips rather than a steady flow.

“You packed it in too tightly,” Obi-Wan explained.

“I know, I know,” Ahsoka said. “It’s only a weak latte anyway. I can get away with it.” She poured the regular milk into a small jug and covered her hand with a tea towel. At Anakin’s confusion glance, she answered, “I’m afraid of burning my hand. I’m still not used to the boiling the milk so I don’t want it to overfill.”

“It’s a good plan Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan complimented. Anakin verbally agreed.

Ahsoka inspected her left hand, “I accidentally scalded my palm the other day and I can still feel it stinging.” Fearless, the girl plopped the steam wand into the jug, twisted the pressure on and watched as the milk and steam hissed. A loud squirting noise emitted from the jug as though someone was loudly sipping a drink. Obi-Wan covered Ahoka’s hands with his own and guided the jug into an angled position. The milk turned into a whirlpool. Then he had Ahsoka move the jug down so that the bottom of the steam wand was just touching the milk. The sound diminished into a little hiss. Ahsoka gave an appreciative smile for Obi-Wan as he removed himself.

“Follow the milk as it rises,” Obi-Wan instructed. “You want to make that hissing noise otherwise you boil it too much and you get too much froth, or you don’t boil it enough and you just get hot sloshy milk.”

“Okay,” Ahsoka nodded, concentrating on her task. “And I got the feel the jug until it gets too hot to touch?” At Obi-Wan affirmation, Ahsoka patted the jug as the heat rose. Finally, when it was too much to bare, Ahsoka hurriedly twitched off the steam wand. “Yeah, now to make the drink!”

“You know there’s still glass on the floor –” Obi-Wan started.

“ –You can do it Ahsoka!” Anakin cheered on. He carefully avoided the shards of glass and drew closer to the nineteen-year-old. Behind them they heard Obi-Wan insist that he _wasn’t_ going to be the one to eventually clean this mess like last time.

“How do you make a latte?” Anakin asked.

“Uh…”

Obi-Wan pipped up, “Slowly pour, then add the froth quickly for the last quarter. You want it the width of your finger.”

“Yeah, like that,” Ahsoka said. She tapped the jug, swirled the milk around pleased with its texture (“like liquid marshmallow!”) and began to pour. Very _very_ slowly.

“That drink is going to be cold by the time you send it out,” Anakin quipped.

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out then increased the speed to whip out the froth. She frowned at the sight, “It looks so ugly. A brown mushy mess.”

“Concentrate on getting the coffee correct before making it pretty,” Obi-Wan said.

“Easy for you to say,” Ahsoka countered. “Your coffees always look so pretty.”

Anakin considered commenting that of course the coffee would look pretty from a pretty guy but didn’t want to get smacked.

“I’ve been practising for a while now,” Obi-Wan replied. “I should hope they look and taste good.”

Ahsoka grumbled. She bent right down close to the coffee, ignoring her co-workers’ stares, and focused all her energy on making pretty pictures on top of the coffee. Dash here, and a strike here, and a blob there…

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “I don’t mean to interrupt but –”

“ –your drink is overflowing,” Anakin finished with a laugh.

Ahsoka swore and stepped back. She wiped the glass’ sides and bottom, and the counter. “It’s fine, it’s cool, see, looks lovely,” Ahsoka claimed.

“I’m afraid I can’t serve that,” Obi-Wan broke the news gently. “Drink it yourself and see what you think.” As he prepped the coffee machine to make the weak latte himself, Ahsoka took a sip of her weak latte and shook her head at its overtly milky flavour.

“I’m going to watch and see what you do,” Ahsoka informed Obi-Wan.

“No worries,” Obi-Wan said. He grabbed a latte glass. It fell from his hand and shattered all over the ground again. “… _Bugger_.”

Anakin saw the opportunity and seized it, “Wonderful Obi-Wan. Both you and Ahsoka can clean this place up and I’ll just do something else.”

~o0o~

Later in the day, Obi-Wan marched to Anakin and Ahsoka and shoved a cup into their faces. Anakin quickly admired the way anger looked on the man’s face again before said man crankily interrupted his thoughts.

“What is this?”

Anakin gave Obi-Wan the benefit of the doubt and checked the cup. It was stained. “Huh, wonder how that happened.” Ahsoka hummed in agreement.

Obi-Wan gave an exacerbated sigh, “It _happens_ because neither of you let the dishes soak in hot water and soap. You don’t even scrub it. You just shove it into the washing machine and think that’s it. Well, it. Does. Not. Work! You’re just cementing stains onto the dishes. Try that around Padmé and she will kill you.”

“Okay, okay, got it,” Anakin complied peacefully, trying desperately not to laugh. He wondered if Obi-Wan would hit him if he called him and his frustrations cute. He gave up on the thought when Qui-Gon came out, handing Obi-Wan his lunch and gifting a half hour break.

“Just call me when you have a coffee order,” Qui-Gon told them. He entered the kitchen again.

“ _Don’t_ call Qui-Gon, get me,” Obi-Wan said. “He makes an absolute mess of the place.”

With Anakin and Ahsoka alone with only their company to keep boredom away, the two chatted about their studies and discovered both had a thing for video games, especially racing ones. Anakin kept glancing back and forth between Ahsoka and the coffee machine, curiosity nudging him like a rule-breaking best friend. Ahsoka gladly took that role, “You know, you’re welcome to try it out.”

“It’ll be bit weird though with only one hand,” Anakin explained.

“Aw, come on, try it.”

Anakin gave in and positioned himself directly at the machine, taking in every nook and cranny. Excitement coursed through him at the mere thought of opening it up and checking out how it works. Ahsoka asked him what he was going to make. Anakin stopped and thought about it. He contemplated going for the easy option, just a regular coffee but knew that the extra challenge was something he was always up to. Gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush and tended to create better results. Anakin recalled the coffees Padmé and Obi-Wan had both made, then considered something.

“Obi-Wan’s on his break,” Anakin said. “He’ll need a drink. I’ll make him his mocha.”

“…that’s awfully nice of you,” Ahsoka said with a sneaky grin.

“ _I_ am an extremely nice person,” Anakin replied. “No secret motives. Nope. Not at all.”

And so, Anakin followed Ahsoka’s instruction. The girl knew the basics ingredients for a mocha but both considered that it would be made with similar tactic used for a latte. Placing a latte glass down on a flat surface, Anakin then used the same hand to squeeze chocolate sauce in. Preparing the shots was a lot harder. He slotted the porta filter into position but needed to use his prosthetic to simply hold it in place while his other hand flicked the switch to bring the grinded coffee powder down.

“Here, you need the porta filter to be balanced flat, otherwise the shots won’t come out equally.”

Anakin wouldn’t allow Ahsoka to do anything for him. He was going to make Obi-Wan a mocha on his own god dammit. Using his prosthetic as a balancing tool, he carefully pressed the grinded coffee in the porta filter. The table cloth it sat on ensured it wouldn’t slip on the stainless steel counter. It was difficult but Anakin proudly fitted the porta filter into the coffee machine and set the shots off. He swallowed thickly when only one shot came out. He quickly moved the latte glass over and collected the coffee. Ahsoka informed him this meant the coffee in the porta filter had been uneven. Damn. But oh well! Coffee and chocolate were now together in the latte glass!

Anakin filled the small jug with milk. He thought about how he was going to simultaneously hold the jug up so the steam wand was in the milk whilst also turning it on. He solved this but simply turning the wand on first than hastily shoving the wand into the jug. This resulted in numerous bubbles popping up but remembering Obi-Wan’s lessons on milk boiling, Anakin adjusted the angle with his wrist and listened for the hissing noise. The bubbles disappeared into the whirlpool and the noise dialled down from a banshee screech to an easy-going whistle. “Crap, how am I going to know if it’s too hot?”

Ahsoka smiled and volunteered. She banished Anakin’s worry that this somehow meant he cheated. When the milk was hot enough, they inspected the milk and found that there was still too much froth. Anakin spooned it out and discarded it into the largest jug used for excess milk dumping. And now, the final moment.

Chewing on his tongue as he concentrated, Anakin poured the milk.

“Wait!” Ahsoka’s voice cut in.

Anakin flinched and stopped. “What?”

“You need the stir the coffee and chocolate together with that bit of milk,” Ahsoka said. “Otherwise, all the chocolate will stick to the bottom.”

Once that was done, Anakin made sure that there was going to be no more false alarms. He poured the milk slowly then shoved it out when there was a quarter left to fill. There was no pretty picture at the top but Anakin simply covered that with chocolate power.

“You did it!” Ahsoka congratulated. “Now go, big guy!”

“…do you think he’ll like it though?” Anakin felt an old friend called anxiety whisper in his ears. “I mean, he must make better mochas all the time.”

“You – oh dear, j-just go! He’ll love it.”

Nervously, Anakin picked up the saucer holding the mocha and spoon and went searching for Obi-Wan. There he was, seated in the corner of the café reading a newspaper and sipping on soup. Upon noticing a glass of water Anakin berated himself for not checking to see if Obi-Wan already had a drink sorted.

“Hm? Anakin, what is it?”

Anakin froze at Obi-Wan’s question. When the silence was beginning to reach the awkward stage Anakin decided to simply go with it. If he was going to screw up, might as well dive in head first and screw it up in a spectacular fashion. “Here,” he placed the mocha down onto the table. “I made it for you. I know it’s probably not very good, but yeah. Here.”

Frowning, Obi-Wan stared at the mocha then back up at Anakin. “D-did you do this? Did Ahsoka –?”

“ –She only told me how to make mochas,” Anakin said. If the mocha tasted awful he wasn’t going to have Ahsoka be blamed for it. “But I did so it’s my fault that it sucks.”

“Wha –? I haven’t even tasted…” Obi-Wan sighed and to Anakin’s amazement a smile brightened up the man’s face and made it looks ten times better than it does when angry. “I’m sure it’s fine, Anakin. Thank you making me this.”

‘A warm tingly feeling’ was a phrase Anakin had come across multiple times during high school for English classes. All through school he had rolled his eyes at romance novels and any kind of cliché or language tropes associated with it. But now, there was nothing else to it. He was no English genius, but he felt there was no other way to describe what he was feeling in his chest. “No problem,” Anakin breathed out. He felt like there was too much energy bursting throughout him. “I –uh –am happy to make you a mocha anytime you like.”

Then, to Anakin’s further astonishment, Obi-Wan’s cheeks turned pink. The man hunched, picked up his mocha and concentrated on that instead as he muttered, “Thank you.”

If a smile looked lovely on Obi-Wan, then a blush looked one hundred times better. Anakin practically skipped away in delight. On the way back Ahsoka held up a palm. They high fived each other.

Later, when Ahsoka was cleaning dishes (“I’m doing it properly, I swear!”), Anakin was joined by Obi-Wan behind the counter. Obi-Wan cleaned the coffee machine and reminded Anakin to do the same whenever he used it. Anakin resisted rolling his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Obi-Wan paused, then glanced up, “Hey, Anakin.”

“Yeah?”

“…What kind of drink do you like?”

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat. Shit he was full of romance clichés today. His mother would be so proud. “Um, uh, not the biggest fan of coffee so maybe a hot chocolate?”

“I can do that,” Obi-Wan smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I'm ace and despite being in two relationships already, I really struggle with romance cause I find everything slightly romantic over the top and embarassing so it is difficult for me to write romance in a nice natural pace cause I don't know what is natural for people! XD
> 
> Soy milk is so god damn hard to boil and is beyond frustrating at making pretty pictures with. Plus, it doesn't smell nearly as nice as almond milk does.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: A certain OC from a certain someone's story is making a brief cameo in this chapter. 
> 
> Apologies for grammar or spelling mistakes

Back when Shmi was a single mother Anakin proudly proclaimed her the best cook in the world. When Shmi married Cliegg Lars, Anakin amended soon that claim. Combined, Shmi and Cliegg served up the best meals one could hope for. Anakin’s mouth watered at the roast chicken placed at the centre of the table decorated and flavoured with lemon slices and thyme. Anakin sat himself down, eagerly awaiting the meal to start. Opposite him was his step-brother Owen who was already scooping roast smashed potatoes onto his plate. “So, I heard you got a job or something,” Owen said, unfolding a napkin onto his lap. The young man had been off on a road trip travelling around the coast of Australia. He had groaned about being sick of Maccas and needing some real food. Oh, and been happy to be home with the family, of course.

Anakin shrugged, “Just at a little café. Get some cash flowing in, you know.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Owen replied. “How long have you been working there?”

“A month now,” Anakin realised, surprised by how quickly the time had passed. “It flies by. Unless it’s a really quiet day, which suck. Or when a lot of kids come in and make _a mess_.”

Shmi giggled into her glass, “You used to be like that. Whenever I went out, you had to drink and eat everything I had just to make sure it was good enough for me to eat.”

“Precious,” Owen muttered sarcastically, casting his step-brother a smirk.

Anakin went with it, “Yeah, I was an absolute darling. I was my mum’s favourite kid.”

“You were her only kid,” Owen murmured as Cliegg joined in the conversation.

“So, Anakin, do you get any rude customers? What are the people generally like?”

Again, Anakin shrugged, “They’re okay most of the time. We’re in one of the nicer parts of Sydney, I guess. Well, except for the occasional asshole in a suit who can’t stand waiting in line. Seriously, this guy just shoved some poor kid out of the way. Then told this couple to ‘go back to where they came from’ and they were all, ‘ah, we’re from Wollongong, ya dickhead.’”

Owen snorted. Cliegg and Shmi frowned at the story. Moving the conversation to more friendly topics, Shmi prompted Anakin to talk about some of the tasks required at work. Anakin launched right into it, “So I got to fill these cups on the tables that hold the sugars. And my co-worker, Obi-Wan, gets real uptight about it. Half has to be white sugar, and the other half has to be brown sugar and equal –”

“ –what’s that?” Owen asked.

“ –It’s like this non-sugar but sugary taste thing,” Anakin tried to explain. _Poorly_ , in Owen’s opinion. “But yeah, put too much or too little and Obi-Wan is there to give me a whole lecture about the sugar consumption habits of the average customer. And even when I do it all right, we have tables outside and these god damn rainbow lorikeets come down and steal the sugars! I have to chase them away like an idiot. At least Ahsoka looks stupid too.”

“Only the rainbow lorikeets?” Cliegg said, pouring more gravy onto his potatoes. “I remembered getting pestered by the Kookaburras when I was a young waiter. And the minor birds, those bloody rats with wings.”

Shmi clicked her tongue as she wondered, “What about the bin chickens?”      

“The Ibis?” Anakin asked.

“ _No_ , the bin chickens,” Owen corrected smartly. “No one calls them ‘Ibis’.”

Anakin mimicked his brother’s words under his breath and rolled his eyes. Excuse him for being technical. Cliegg offered everyone a glass of red wine and wasn’t surprised when everyone accepted. As he poured he asked, “How does your employer and fellow staff treat you? They accommodate your arm, right?”

Anakin never understood the stereotypes of the mean uncaring step-parents who would never fill the role of a ‘real parent’ because he always found Cliegg to be as attentive and thoughtful as his mother. “Yeah, it’s all been good. I mean there has been a hiccup here and there, but I think it’s just all of them getting to used it. And they always apologise afterwards. But it’s really just simple misunderstanding that get resolved quickly. Like, one time during a lunch rush, Obi-Wan and Padmé were getting impatient with me cause I could only take one plate at a time but as soon as I pointed out that they were been dicks they, you know, got it, said sorry and have never done it again. So, you know…” It didn’t need to be said that Anakin wasn’t the type to let people walk all over him.  

His family looked pleased with the result. The last time Anakin had certain issues pertaining to his disability, Shmi, Cliegg and Owen were on it like a ton of bricks. Anakin especially remembers fondly the time Owen punched a bully who had been picking on Anakin, calling him ‘stubby.’ The bully, Greedo, never approached Anakin afterwards.

When dinner was finished, knives and forks side by side on the plates, Shmi brought in a red velvet chocolate cake served with vanilla ice-cream. Anakin and Owen shared smiles, forever grateful for the food they got. Cliegg then said to Shmi, “What do you call this love?”

Owen immediately deflated, “Dad, don’t quote –”

“ –Mum,” Anakin pleaded. “Don’t go along with his –”

Shmi however ignored her sons and answered her husband with a wink, “Red velvet cake, dear.”

Cliegg patted his unimpressed and bored son, Owen, on the shoulder and smugly continued, “Why would you go out to a restaurant when _this_ keeps coming up night after night?”

“ _Dad_ ,” Owen dragged the word out as Anakin groaned and Shmi chuckled. “Stop quoting _The Castle_.”

“That’s a real classic.”

“I don’t care dad! You’ve quoted it a million times.”

~o0o~

 

If Obi-Wan was being honest with himself, the worst job for him at the café was sweeping the floor. Not because of the sand that settled by the front door (although he couldn’t decide if that or Padmé’s and Anakin’s bitching about it was worse) but because he had to move the tables and chairs around to sweep every spot on the floor. A trivial task that Obi-Wan would never admit to hating but like water torture, it builds and builds until it is unbearable. Which is why Qui-Gon tends to leave the job to someone else, the good man. Except for today when Padmé and Ahsoka were already in the middle of something else.

His phone buzzed in his pants pockets.

With the café quiet and the only customer sitting outside reading a magazine, Obi-Wan discreetly pulled out his mobile knowing exactly who it was.

_Anakin: Who even has the money to go to the Easter Show these days? All I want are the showbags. And to go on the crazy rides until I throw up. That shouldn’t cost me $40._

_Obi-Wan: Is it $40? And why would you want to make yourself sick? That sounds awful. Now don’t you have to prepare for your next class? You don’t have an hour break for nothing._

Obi-Wan stuffed the mobile away just as Padmé and Ahsoka left the kitchen. Padmé was holding her lunch and cutlery. Seizing the opportunity, Obi-Wan passed the broom over to Ahsoka and justified this by arguing _someone_ who could make coffees needed to available if the other barista is on their break. Ahsoka grumbled as she picked up where Obi-Wan left off. Just as Obi-Wan was flipping through the pages of orders, his phone buzzed again. Sighing he took another look:

_Anakin: You know you’re having fun when you’re throwing up everywhere_

Obi-Wan grimaced at the claim.

_Anakin: It is $40! Can you believe that?_

_Anakin: I don’t need to. I did the required readings already._

_Anakin: The lecturer is so weird. He sneezes ALL THE TIME. The funniest thing is listening to him read out parts of the required readings in the tutorials and sneezing through them._

Obi-Wan texted the following: _Didn’t realise engineering had readings._

Which was quickly followed by, _Shit! I read the wrong readings!!_

“Dear god,” Obi-Wan muttered. He left his phone to the side and started the process of making himself a mocha. With Padmé on her break and Ahsoka still struggling with the ratio of chocolate and coffee, Obi-Wan attended to the task himself. As he boiled the milk he admittedly wished for Anakin’s special brand of mocha. He wasn’t too certain what the young man did to make it taste better, but it always tickled Obi-Wan’s taste buds the right way. Another part of Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin thought the same of the drinks Obi-Wan made for him. When his phone beeped again, Obi-Wan considered hurling it away.

_Anakin: False alarm. I did the right readings. Phew!_

_Obi-Wan: You better have. Maybe re-read them. Isn’t engineering hard? I’m busy._

_Anakin: No you’re not. I texted Ahsoka AND Padmé and both said everything is quiet._

“Keep your mouths shut, you two!” Obi-Wan called out.

Both Ahsoka and Padmé shared confused expressions as Obi-Wan punched his text message in.

_Obi-Wan: How much do your classes cost? Each?_

_Anakin: Around $1200. Why?_

_Obi-Wan: You know if you fail you still have to pay for that class right? I’m not going to be responsible for any failed classes or bankruptcy. Go over your readings again._  

_Anakin: Don’t fret so much. I’m doing this course on a scholarship. I’ve done everything I need to do, I swear. You worry too much._

_Obi-Wan: I don’t worry too much. Just don’t want you failing. Now seriously let me get back to work._

When Obi-Wan finally did receive a message, he was simultaneously pleased that Anakin relented but also found Anakin’s reply to be completely unnecessary considering he had written ‘ _Fine_ ’ but with approximately 50 ‘i’s, covering up the entirety of his phone’s screen.

“Gee, he talks to you a lot,” Ahsoka spoke up, leaning against the broom. Padmé hummed in agreement as she chewed on her food.

“He’s just trying to annoy me,” Obi-Wan explained. “He’s very good at it.”

Padmé swallowed her food and answered, “You don’t have to answer every text he sends.”

“That’s just rude behaviour,” Obi-Wan says before grabbing a handful of dirty cups and going to the back to wash them.

“‘Rude behaviour’?” Qui-Gon questions as soon as Obi-Wan enters the kitchen. Obi-Wan flinches, then closes his eyes as he tries to maintain happiness and patience. Qui-Gon however continued to test the man’s control, “You certainly have no problem ignoring my text messages.”

“Please don’t eavesdrops on my conversation,” Obi-Wan murmured dumping the cups in a large plastic container full of hot water and soap.

Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan a cheeky smile as he mixed pasta around a pot. “Well I, for one, am happy you two are getting along. You always have been soft on those that get through to you.”

Obi-Wan played along, “At least they have to get through to me first. With you, you’ll find and adopt any pathetic lifeform you can find. It doesn’t surprise me you’ve been pickpocketed ten times in Europe. Really, who trusts a random stranger that offers to take a picture of you with _your camera_.”

“He said I had nice hair,” Qui-Gon muttered.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan teased. “I’ll remember that next time.” At that, he activated the industrial washing machine. It roared behind him as he returned to the coffee machine.

After Padmé finished her break, she returned to her barista job and guided Ahsoka on latte art. She instructed that the artworks wouldn’t work unless the milk was boiled perfectly and that it was all in the wrist motion. Padmé made a leaf and then admitted to Ahsoka that the first time she tried it, she accidentally made a penis-shaped decoration. Ahsoka sniggered so hard she overboiled the milk.

Obi-Wan was saved from this topic thanks to his duties elsewhere. He had lifted the couch at the end of the café that stretched across the wall so he could inspect the supplies tucked inside. He counted the number of coffee bean bags and the dates written on them. Obi-Wan picked up four of the oldest bags. Then got to determining whether another batch of soft drinks were required. He realised more orange soft drinks needed to be ordered and then remembered Anakin gushing over it one shift. He had spent a good minute arguing with Ahsoka who insisted the orange flavour was the vilest thing on the planet before Obi-Wan required his help. Immediately, Anakin left the argument and did as he was told. Obi-Wan considered the previous text messages. Here he was, assuming Anakin was kicking back and wasting time. When the young man had simply already completed the required tasks. Obi-Wan reckoned Anakin’s sneezing lecturer must secretly love his passionate student. Truthfully, it was a trait Obi-Wan found admirable. Anakin was a young man who had no problem talking about everything and anything, but if he was needed, he respected it and responded with full focus.

Quinlan had been lacking in that department. Too caught up in whatever had captured his attention and whatever was most fun. Yes, all well and good that you’re enjoying the party Quinlan but we _both_ should be preparing the food for the guests _you_ invited for a party _you_ threw, not just me. Obi-Wan didn’t want to place the entire blame onto Quinlan for their failed relationship, especially since their friendship was still thriving. They were just different people who approached situations from different angles. Regardless of how Anakin and Obi-wan might differ, they both threw 120% into whatever task was required of them. And… Obi-Wan shrugged as he accepted what he was feeling, who cares, Obi-Wan quite liked that part of Anakin. Hell, he _really_ liked that part of Anakin.

And once he accepted this, Obi-Wan felt a little bit brighter and happier. Even when the rest of the shift brought about the usual level of problems that occur in cafés. He, Ahsoka and Padmé assessed the water puddling underneath the counter fridge, trying to determine whether there was a leak or condensation in reaction to Sydney weather. A minor bird hopped into the café and decidedly pooped on the floor before being chased away by Qui-Gon wielding a broom and screaming about cleanliness. A few rainbow lorikeets snatched a few sugars and Obi-Wan swatted them away. He had to convince a bystander that he wasn’t filled with hatred towards birds, it’s just that raw sugar rots away their beaks and that is the last thing Obi-Wan wants. Two families came in for a late lunch, adding up to a total of eight children piling into the café. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and Padmé grimaced and prayed that the children wouldn’t be messy. Whoever was listening to their prayers snorted and ignored them. Then Obi-Wan shook his head as he watched Ahsoka struggling to promote a paleo slice to an enquiring customer.

“You’re meant to entice them.”

“How can I when I know these slices taste like shit? And besides, they bought the orange cakes.”

At last Obi-Wan’s shift ended and he opened up the cupboard at the back to collect his bag. He checked his phone again and saw that Anakin had left a few messages asking if Obi-Wan was maybe willing to shell out money to go to the Easter Show anyway and possibly throw up together after a few rides. Obi-Wan considered how he was going to tell Anakin that while his company was welcomed, paying to be sick was not. Before he left, Obi-Wan picked up a take-away cup and was about to prepare another mocha when a teenage girl entered the café.

“Well, look who’s here.”

“Hey Obi-Wan,” the girl grinned. “Want to make me a hot chocolate?”

“Anything for you.”

Ahsoka watched the exchange from afar then whispered to Padmé, “I’m sorry, who is that?”

Padmé smiled, “Oh that’s Edie. She’s Obi-Wan adopted sister. You’ll like her. She’s really sweet.”

“ _OOoohhh_ ,” Ahsoka breathed out. “Will Qui-Gon mind that Obi-Wan isn’t charging her?”

Padmé chuckled, “She’s got Qui-Gon wrapped around her little finger. She’s fine. Family discounts.”

Back at the siblings, Edie was showing Obi-Wan orange boxes that sat neatly in her palm. She explained that she had bought five different teas and was hoping Obi-Wan would try them with her that afternoon. Obi-Wan agreed, “Of course. What’s this, rose and vanilla?”

“Yeah,” Edie read the label and instructions aloud then added, “I’m getting so obsessed with tea lately. I’m going to be a master of tea soon.”

“I can see that. Maybe you can teach me.”

Edie snorted, “You? The _barista_? I don’t think I have a lot to teach you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Obi-Wan replied with a brotherly smile. “There’s plenty to teach me.”

~o0o~

The following day started off well enough.

Obi-Wan had Qui-Gon’s complete attention as he explained in great detail what each of the teas he and Edie had tried tasted like. Qui-Gon was scribbling the names of the teas down, certain that Tahl would gravitate to the banana tea.

When the rush came in, Anakin and Padmé were there as well to handle the customers. There was a steady pace, a rare moment where one was neither lounging around bored or racing in panic mode, and where the time flew by in a blink of an eye. Padmé joked with Anakin that this only occurred when a true coffee virgin took a sip and enjoyed the taste immediately, rather than developing it over time. Just as the pace slowed but still avoided the realms of boredom, another customer came in. Apparently a significant customer since Anakin noticed Obi-Wan stare.

“Quinlan? Thought you had a café near work.”

This ‘Quinlan’ grinned then said, “Listen to me. Do I even _sound_ well?”

Obi-Wan withheld a chuckle, “No. Your nose sounds blocked.”

“Yeah. It’s shit. Everyone in the apartment has the cold,” Quinlan dropped a few coins onto the counter. “The waiting time at the medical centre is an hour and half long! Got to do something while I wait. Uh, large cappuccino please.”

Obi-Wan nodded and got to work.

Anakin watched the two chat away. He noticed how relaxed Obi-wan was around him, finding no trouble in maintaining eye contact or keeping his shoulders unclenched. Anakin analysed Quinlan and for the life of him couldn’t understand what _he_ had done correctly to appeal to Obi-Wan so easily.

“They’ve known each other since high school.”

“What?”

Padmé folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“No, really, what? Why does that –?”

“ –Oh come _on_ ,” Padmé said. “I could feel your grumpiness from other side of the café. Don’t be so worried. They really are just friends.” Still looking dissatisfied Anakin opened his mouth to speak but Padmé cut in again. “They even _dated_ for a bit but are just friends now. You’re fine, Anakin.”

Anakin stared at the smugness radiating off Padmé before carefully saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, sure,” Padmé teased before addressing a customer.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan slid the mug cappuccino over to Quinlan who hastily picked it up. The sudden movement caused the spoon to slide off saucer. Obi-Wan thanked whatever mighty power that existed that his coffee remained intact at the very least. Quinlan bent down and picked up the spoon. Obi-Wan reached for a new one. “Nah, don’t bother,” Quinlan reassured.

“That’s really unhygienic,” Obi-Wan argued tiredly.

“It’s fine,” Quinlan insisted, rubbing the spoon against his shirt before dipping it into the drink.

“One would think someone in your sick condition would be a little bit more careful –”

“ – _Oh_ Obi-Wan, I’m going to get medication anyway. Something is going to be cured.” At that Quinlan looked for a table.

Obi-Wan cleaned out the coffee machine wondering what the hell his younger self was thinking when he first developed a crush on Quinlan. Surely after meeting the guy in Year 7 and being a front seat audience member to all his antics, Obi-Wan would have been a bit smarter about who he was attracted to. Then again, Obi-Wan acknowledged that it wasn’t really Quinlan’s oddness that got to him, just his priorities. This brought Obi-Wan right back to his thoughts on Anakin the previous day. He spotted the young man folding the cutlery in the napkins diligently. Obi-Wan felt a tightness in his chest and a warm feeling enveloping him as if he was hugging a hot cup of coffee. It reminded Obi-Wan of the time when he first realised he had a crush on Quin–

–Oh _shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, go check out "Lucida" by markwatnae (bertie). I'm not into OCs all that much but god damn did I just fall in love with Edie. She is sooo cute. I want to add that I did (anonymously) ask for permission to write Edie and even asked what drink she would order at a cafe. So thanks Bertie (markwatnae). 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, bertie's OC Edie is showing up. Cause I love her. I just really hope I'm getting her character right. 
> 
> You're looking at someone who recently graduated from university!! It's official, I have the actual piece of paper. It's a degree in Arts with a triple major in: politics and international relations, modern history and sociology. I LOVE all of these subjects and I'm SO happy that I am done. Just... not very happy about the university bill. But hey, at least it's better than what I'd be charged in the USA.

One always knew evening was drawing close when a swarm of cockatoos flew overhead, their banshee-equivalent screeches making foreigners flinch and the locals roll their eyes at the dramatics. Obi-Wan himself did not mind them per say. He just had an unfortunate history of cockatoos finding great fascination with his car and swooping in to say hello before bashing into the front window. He was forever grateful the average speed around the area meant his car was never going fast enough to kill the buggers. If they did, he doubted Edie would ever forgive for that one time she was in the car to witness a particular episode.

Cinderella ceased her hasty gulping from the dog bowl to stare at the flock of cockatoos. She bounced around in excitement, her breaths coming out in wheezes, and stood on her hind legs to lean on Qui-Gon. Her owner picked her up and held her only the littlest bit closer to the sky, but that distance was enough to make her happy forever. Obi-Wan watched and wished all humans were as easily pleased as dogs were.

Then maybe he could convince Anakin that the Easter Show outing was entirely unnecessary.

He had thought Anakin was just tossing up the idea to see who’d bite the other day, but all of today, Anakin had listed everything they could do at the show. Obi-Wan knew Anakin was desperate to see the vehicle and motorbike stunt performances because the young man had only mentioned it was his favourite event a hundred times. Anakin assumed correctly that Obi-Wan probably had not been to the show since he was child. Obi-Wan briefly wondered if he should be offended by this.

Obi-Wan grunted when he picked up a table and moved it inside. His hip ached when he bumped it against another table in the process. It was four in the afternoon and the Pug Plant Café was closing for the day. A few years earlier Obi-Wan had been working at a large venue that had him working from the evening till one in the morning. He made an effort to stay as long as possible but then New Year’s Eve reared its ugly head and presented Obi-Wan with a shift that began in the middle of the afternoon and didn’t end until four in the morning. When Obi-Wan began his job at this small and humble café he realised just how good he had it now. That didn’t stop him from preferring shifts that began and finished early. He wasn’t exactly a big fan of hauling tables and chairs. Ahsoka had a bit of thing for it though.

She also had a thing for pestering Obi-Wan to go with Anakin to the Easter Show.

All day she and Padmé had bombarded him. Obi-Wan tried fending them off and concentrating on work but every time he dodged one woman, another would pop up like he was playing a whack-a-mole game. Watching the two finish up their shift had been a wonderful sight. Until Qui-Gon placed a damp cloth in Obi-Wan’s hands and reminded him that he had an entire coffee machine to clean. Obi-Wan grimaced at the stains on his pants and mentally prepared himself for the scrubbing it was going to take. The young man went outside again to collect the signs. Qui-Gon was stacking the chairs together, careful to avoid the pug dancing around his feet. Just as Obi-Wan realised he needed to wipe away the outdated message on the sign someone said his name.

Edie stood by the steel wheel barrel owned by the café. Five potted plants sat in the barrel and the teenage girl was grazing her fingers along the smooth texture of the long leaves. She gave a large smile when her brother greeted her. “Mum’s doing the grocery shopping,” Edie explained. “I wanted to go to the library to get some books and –”

“ –Edie! How are you, little Lorikeet?” Qui-Gon along with Cinderella came bounding forward.

Edie bent down and snuggled the excited pug as she said hello to Qui-Gon as well, glowing at the familiar nick-name he had given her when they first met. “I’m – uh – trying to get my books but…”

Obi-Wan instantly knew what the problem was. He knew what shame-filled downcast eyes and hunched shoulders meant. “The library was too busy?” he asked and at her small nodding he added, “How about I get the books for you? You can sit outside or meet up with mum while I get them –?”

“ –Um, actually, do you think I could go with you to the library?” Edie muttered, standing up and brushing invisible dirt off her clothes. “Not that I’m ungrateful, I just really want to go as well.”

Before Obi-Wan could answer Qui-Gon voiced it for him, “Of course! Obi-Wan will be happy to! You can tell him what showbags you want from the Easter Show while you’re at it.”

Taking note of her brother’s annoyed face pointed at his boss, Edie made eye contact with Qui-Gon and both shared a small sly curl of the lips. Edie leapt at the chance, “You’re going to the Easter Show? That’s great! Could you _please_ get photos of the vegetable displays and cake decorations for me?”

“ I –”

“ –Of course he will, Lorikeet,” Qui-Gon answered. “I can’t imagine Obi-Wan will let Anakin drag him onto any rides so he has to occupy himself somehow.”

“Qui –”

“ –Ana…oh! So you _are_ going with him,” Edie grinned happily at her brother. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Well I’m going now,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

Qui-Gon patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder with a triumphant grin, “There was never any doubt.” He winked at Edie who stifled a giggle.

A few moments later Obi-Wan was shuffling through his bag to find his copy of the café’s key. Naturally, Qui-Gon had lost it, claiming it was all Cinderella’s fault. Tahl had called Obi-Wan during the morning to smugly inform him that Qui-Gon had accidentally flushed it down the toilet and was too prideful to admit to it. Both Obi-Wan and Tahl had shared a laugh. Behind him, Obi-Wan heard Edie gushing over her latest history lessons with Qui-Gon, who was chiming in asking questions and playing the role of a perfect audience. She mentioned the need for more history sources from books which was why she was heading to the library. Then Qui-Gon eagerly told her that he and Tahl had a collection of history books at home she was welcomed to use. Just as Obi-Wan turned the key and locked the café door, Qui-Gon was twisting a flower between his fingers and listing off fun-facts about the Hydrangea flower. Edie listened intently. Obi-Wan almost rolled his eyes but admittedly found it endearing how well Qui-Gon and Tahl got along with him and his family. Their relationship felt less like boss and worker, and more like eccentric uncle and aunt playfully terrorising their niece and nephew.  

When Obi-Wan and Edie had bid goodbye to Qui-Gon and Cinderella, and were huddled together in the quietness of the local library, Edie whispered with her hands dramatically covering her mouth, “Hey, um, Obi-Wan…I know I was joking before but… you don’t have to go if you don’t want to...”

Edie chew her bottom lip before adding, “I don’t want to force you into anything so only go if you really want …to.”

Obi-Wan tucked a lock of hair behind Edie’s ear and gave her a warm smile. “Thank you,” he said softly. He sighed in relief, “But, when I really think about it, there is a lot to do there and I’m sure Anakin will make it interesting. I want to go. I just …was feeling a little overwhelmed.”

That evening Obi-Wan texted Anakin and asked about the day and time of meeting.

 

~o0o~

 

“Oh _bugger_ ,” Obi-Wan grumbled. “It’s raining.”

Anakin snorted, “Course it’s raining. It’s Easter.”

The two moved down the bus murmuring apologies whenever their legs caught on bags and other loose hanging items. Rain splattered against the window and rolled down the panels like scrambling tadpoles. Anakin thought back to his childhood when he would trace the path of the rain tadpoles with his fingers and watch for other droplets to link and make one large enough to be dubbed a frog. He thought about blurting this out to Obi-Wan and wondered if it would make him sound weird. Friends from high school had thought so. That concern dissolved away when Anakin asked, “Can I have the window seat?”

Obi-Wan nodded and gained a thousand points in Anakin’s good book for not kicking up a fuss. “It’s so busy though, I wonder if we’ll even be able to –Oh.”

Both saw it together. With the bus so full there were only a limited number of seats left. All were aisle seats. Anakin couldn’t decide what was more irritating, the lack of staring out into the scenery or not even being able to sit next to Obi-Wan. “We can still chat to each other,” Anakin said sitting down.

Obi-Wan sat across him and looked straight ahead. He noticed Anakin waiting and replied, “Sorry, I’m prone to car sickness. If I look anywhere else but the front I’m guaranteed to get nauseas.”

“Oh, okay,” Anakin admittedly felt a tinge of annoyance, speaking as someone who had never experienced motion sickness in his life. If anything, Anakin was eased by motion like a baby rocked in a cradle. He also lived in a family bursting with conversation, where one voice had to climb in volume over the rest to be heard except in the rare moments of relative quietness at dinner when mouths were tempted with food. With that thought, annoyance slipped into anxiousness as Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan was going to grow bored of Anakin and this “little excursion” he had called it upon meeting. Anakin started when the bus rolled over a speed bump.

He checked on Obi-Wan to see the man had his hands resting in his lap and his eyes fixed on the large front window. Anakin inwardly swore, clearly whatever was outside was far more interesting than Anakin could ever hope to be–

No. Stop. The voice of his mother echoed in his head. _You have a tendency to think the worse when you’re worried. Calm down dear._ Anakin pressed fingertips to his closed eyes and then pulled the skin away from the nose, stretching out the skin as he regulated himself. He pretended he didn’t see the weird look a group of kids gave him and his antics. Anakin didn’t need to feel anymore pressured, thank you. Half of Anakin was pleased he was heading off to the Easter show with Obi-Wan, and the other half wished he had never allowed himself to swept up in Padmé and Ahsoka’s enthusiasm.

“You already know Obi-Wan is into guys so you don’t have to worry about that!” Ahsoka had said.

“You’re already ten times more suited to Obi-Wan than Quinlan,” Padmé had offered.

“You can do this!” they had both exclaimed.

“Yeah! I can do this!” Anakin had replied back.

“Shit I can’t do this,” Anakin whimpered under his breath.

“Do what?”

Anakin flinched at Obi-Wan’s voice. “N-nothing,” he answered. “I was just – uh – thinking about the rides I’m going on.”

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be watching from the sidelines,” Obi-Wan said pleasantly. He showed off a silver camera. “I’ll take pictures of you. I wonder how many photos it’ll take for you to go from pink to green. Two or three perhaps?”

Anakin exaggerated an offended scoff, “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m a professional adrenaline junkie. I’ll be perfectly fine. There’s only one thing that gets me.”

The bus swerved to the right and Anakin realised how odd their conversation must look with Obi-Wan continuously looking ahead rather than at him. “What’s that?” Obi-Wan asks. Despite only seeing half his face Anakin spotted the mixture of curiosity and mirk.

“It’s kinda embarrassing, like really stupid.”

“Do tell.”

“Um…you know those teacup rides?”

“…really Anakin?”

“Hey, cut me some slack,” Anakin huffed out a laugh. “I can’t help it. Something about them gets to me immediately.”

“But not the giant swinging boat?”

“No way, that’s one of the best ones,” Anakin insisted with delight.

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed with content. “Can’t even say I’m surprised.”

Much to Anakin’s immense relief and joy the rest of the bus trip continued in a casual and easy-going tone. Except for one moment where a car ran a red light and the bus driver had to slam his foot on the break before proceeding to throw a handful of colourful language unsuitable for the many children occupying the bus seats. The bus driver didn’t bother responding to the numerous parents glowering at him. Obi-Wan and Anakin shrugged it off and went back to their simple chatter, finding themselves sharing the music they had. Both of them listed off the bands they loved, pleased that their tastes were similar and that they listened to Triple J, and then Anakin spiced it up by daring each other to admit guilty pleasures. “Oh, so you’re not just _any_ hipster,” Anakin gawked at Obi-Wan’s answer. “You’re a dorky hipster.”

“Shut up Anakin,” Obi-Wan sniggered.

When the two got off the bus everyone noted that the skies had cleared momentarily. “Don’t count on it,” a middle-age woman joked with her husband. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan wrapped up the wet umbrellas in plastic bags before burying them in a handy day backpack. Inside Anakin saw a bottle of water and a jumper. Obi-Wan wrapped the bottle in the jumper, hiding it, before trying to flatten it out. “What are you…?” Anakin asked.

“It already costs me forty dollars to get in, I’m not paying extra for water,” Obi-Wan muttered. It was then signs depicting the message of outside food and drink banned from entering the Easter Show crossed their path. “I swear, these greedy little –”

Anakin tuned out the rest of Obi-Wan’s rant, having heard it a million times. He went over the mental list he and Padmé had come up with to woo Obi-Wan. Here he was, aiming to simply go to the Easter Show with a good friend but then Padmé had watched his reaction to Mr Too-Cool-4-School the other day and realised something needed to be done. At first Anakin hadn’t understood what she meant, he was simply confused as to how someone like Quinlan was able to charm the pants off Obi-Wan.

Padmé had texted back to him, _He didn’t charm Obi-Wan! He doesn’t fall for that anymore._

_Anakin: So it worked on him one time? WHAT IS THE SECRET?!_

_Padmé: Being friendly? Like what you’re doing now?????? All you need to do is turn your Easter Show outing into a date and I know it will work out._

At the time, Anakin had been sitting in his brother’s car with his Jack Russel. There was a slit in the window to let the cool breeze in, music was pumping loudly through headphones and his dog was curled up into a ball on his lap. Owen was off buying milk from the local grocery shop. It had been a nice calming afternoon with Anakin and Owen walking their dog at the park until his phone buzzed.

The chat with Padmé made Anakin realise that he found her to be a bit of an odd individual. Padmé was brimming with generosity and friendliness. She always had room for honesty, even of the most brutal kind, and had no qualms about setting the world down a course which she deemed correct. She had struck a chord with Anakin (both finding great displeasure in sand seemed to do it) and it had not taken long for them to become friends. A friend was something Anakin had forgotten how much he missed. Transferring from high school to university hadn’t really split friendships apart, but rather showed Anakin how flimsy those bonds had been in the first place. Not that Anakin had been especially torn up about this. After many _many_ times of overestimating his importance to others and the strength in past relationships, Anakin had taken a more casual approach to meeting people. He …also hadn’t noticed how quickly friends dropped off after his accident resulting in his prosthetic. Every. Time he started a new school or class, he’d get the same looks and same hesitance in being friends with that weirdo who had the so-called ‘Barbie-Doll’ arm.

Which was why he wasn’t quite sure how to take Padmé’s insistence that the Easter Show outing with Obi-Wan should just straight-up be a date. He had tried explaining to her that surely, he wasn’t _that_ important to Obi-Wan and no way would Obi-Wan ever have a thing for _him_. There was just a really _really_ nice friendship between the two that would dissolve away once one of them left the job; and this included Anakin’s thoughts on Padmé, Ahsoka and Qui-Gon.

 _No, absolutely not. I KNOW it’ll be perfect. I KNOW he has a thing for you. You guys should give it a go. I mean, why not right?_ Padmé had texted back, trying to dash away such nasty thoughts from her friend’s head.  

When Anakin had reached to high levels of puzzlement, he texted a message so hastily he didn’t bother checking for grammar or spelling mistakes.

_Anakin: How do you even know I have a dish on Jim? Press big ass Umptions._

He slacked when his proofreading abilities increased by 1000000% upon sending the message.

_Padmé: Who’s Jim? :P No, really though, I can tell! You know I have had a crush before right??? I know what it is like! I just think you guys should do something about it._

_Anakin: Do you go out with everyone you’ve had a crush on?_

_Padmé: No but that’s because they’re not always interested. I’ve admitted all my crushes just because I reckon it can start something fun. Why? What do you do?_

_Anakin: …Ignore it?_

_Padmé: Oh honey. No. Just dew it XD_

_Anakin: Alright. Alright._

Their conversation ended soon after. Anakin snapped out of his memory and took in the entrance to the Easter Show. He liked the way the golden lightbulbs lining along the edges of brightly coloured signs, contrasted to how noncommittal the workers assigned to ticket duty looked. As Anakin had his ticket scanned, he watched one of the workers inspecting Obi-Wan’s bag. Obi-Wan looked like an innocent child who had cleaned up their room; of course, with all the clothes and toys hidden underneath the bed. Anakin struggled to keep a straight face when Obi-Wan was let through without hassle.

On the other side, Anakin soaked in the wonderful sight of the Easter Show. Families and loners walking along through the Sydney Olympic Park, enjoying the scenery and soaking in the fun atmosphere regardless of the storm clouds brewing in again. Venders bordered the walkway, displaying showbags, extremely unhealthy but delicious food, offering toys to either buy or win that one would be throwing away in a week’s time. Anakin quickly informed Obi-Wan that when he was nine he started counting the amount of stuffed toys won at the Easter Show that would find a home in the bin. He was up to twenty three and was hoping for a rich treasure hunt this year. Maybe Obi-Wan would bring him good luck.

Speaking of, Obi-Wan was unfolding a map handed out by a worker wearing bunny ears. He moved it so Anakin could see it better and both began pinpointing where they would go first. “No, here,” Obi-Wan said, jabbing at an area nearby. “We can hire a locker there.”

“A locker?” then Anakin realised. “Oh yeah. We should get the showbags now so we don’t miss out.”

“Then we store them in the locker,” Obi-Wan finished. “Alright, let’s go.”

Along the way, Anakin could see the Ferris Wheel amongst a sea of crazy show rides. And he realised that a ride on the Ferris Wheel was going to be the _perfect_ way to get this date to work.

“ _Bugger!_ It’s raining _again!_ ” Obi-Wan complained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all seriousness, if the Easter Show wasn't so expensive, I'd go so much more often cause I LOVE a lot of the stuff one can do there. We'll be seeing a lot of that next week in Anakin and Obi-Wan's kinda sorta date.  
> Thanks for reading guys!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out not that many people know what the Easter Show is. It is an event held in NSW, Sydney (I don’t know if the other states hold their own) which is like a carnival. Like a lot of stuff happens. It’s kind of hard to explain. I guess you’ll get an explanation of sorts in this chapter. Fact is, all you need to is: IT’S EXPENSIVE!   
> Also, I’m putting some notes here for names non-Australians might not know. As someone who has been to America and said stuff with my usual dialogue, I found myself having to explain what I actually meant so many times. So I know some of these might make you go ‘duh’ but I’m not risking anything.  
> * Fairy Floss = Cotton Candy  
> ** Rockmelon = Cantaloupe   
> *** Tomato Sauce = Ketchup

“Did you see that?”

Obi-Wan frowned and looked over his shoulder. Nothing in particular stood out to him. “No, what?”

Anakin’s already bright blue eyes seemed to intensify as he answered, “That kid had a _massive_ bag of fairy floss.* Where the hell are they selling that?”

“Ah… I think there,” Obi-Wan said pointing to a long line of excited children and groaning parents. He too grimaced at the huge bags children were carrying around him. Some reached from shoulders to knees and were filled with pastel coloured frizzy sugary goodness.

The two reached the end of line. As Anakin shuffled through the bag resting on Obi-Wan’s back, said carrier was silently hoping five minutes was the most they’d spend waiting in line. It took four minutes. Anakin missed Obi-Wan’s triumphant “ _yes!_ ” under his breath and instead focused all his attention on the young woman behind the counter. Anakin had looked at every single bag up on display during the line and had made his decision.

“Three please,” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan baulked, “ _Three_?! Anakin, you can’t eat all –”

“–It’s not just for me,” Anakin replied, eagerly watching the woman climb a small ladder to reach the fairy floss bags. “You’re having the third. I’ll take the other two.”

“…I am _not_ eating a whole bag of fairy floss,” Obi-Wan insisted, flabbergasted at Anakin’s confidence in both their stomachs.

Anakin shrugged, “Well, probably not in one go but I’m sure you’ll do fine. Thank you!” he handed over the money, then wrapped his arms around the three huge bags.

When one of the bags slipped through Obi-Wan reluctantly picked it up. “You’re going to be well acquainted with the Show’s toilets by the end of the day,” he said.

“Good,” Anakin went along with it. “I’ll tell you all the fine detail of these bathrooms down to the messages scratched on the doors.”

“Oh dear god,” Obi-Wan shook his head.

Desperate to free his hands, Obi-Wan picked up the pace and searched keenly for signs to the Easter Show’s lockers. A bundle of balloons clutched in the fist of an extremely frustrated looking clown was pushed aside by a convenient gust of wind to reveal an arrow pointing to the location of the lockers, much to Obi-Wan’s relief. Anakin, having torn open one of the bags with his teeth, and chewing on his treat, followed Obi-Wan along without complaint. He had demolished a third of the bag (“Anakin, that is _disgusting!_ ” “Shove it, old man!”) by the time an arena came into view. Inside the arena was complete and utter chaos. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan in the slightest if he was told all the children in Sydney were cramped inside, squirming around bumping against each other like tadpoles in a pond too small.

Anakin’s excitement only expanded. “Let’s go in!”

“ _No_ ,” Obi-Wan clutched Anakin’s sleeve. “We’re hiring a locker first.”

“Aw come on –”

“–Do you want to risk one of those kids stealing your fairy floss?”

“…So how much are the lockers?”

After paying fifteen dollars, a locker was assigned and immediately full of fairy floss bags. Anakin and Obi-Wan stared at the mess. It reminded Anakin of the balls of dirty clothes he’d roll and store under his bed. Before Anakin even had the chance to take in a breath to supply the oxygen required to string along a sentence requesting to finish off the remaining two thirds of his fairy floss bag, Obi-Wan shortly said, “No,” and shut the door, locking it with a padlock.

~o0o~

 

Anakin stared at the large cardboard cut-out of Garfield. Behind it Anakin counted thirty Garfield themed showbags up on display. “My mum is a big fan of Garfield,” he said casually.

“Huh, mine too,” Obi-Wan answered.

“…Would you hate me if I said you remind me of Garfield?” Anakin struggled to contain a smirk.

The only response Anakin got was a very unimpressed expression. He ranked it as the second most unimpressed face Obi-Wan had given him. The number one spot was when Anakin had popped open  a brand new can of whipped cream to spray on top of an ice coffee, only for it to explode everywhere. Anakin had called him Santa Claus and then Obi-Wan spent the next few minutes washing cream out of his beard and hair in the local bathroom.

Anakin’s ears felt as though they perked up like a cat’s when a passing individual said to their partner that a certain showbag brand was selling out fast and most likely only had a few left. Anakin recognised the brand and static fuzzed through his brain before the obvious conclusion was finally made: run. Obi-Wan froze as he watched Anakin quickly tell him he was grabbing a showbag before bolting away through the crowds crying, “Excuse me! Sorry! Your foot okay? K, bye!” Obi-Wan was hardly going to steep to running after Anakin but he did increase his speed and followed after him, thanking the crowd for slowing the other down. Anakin had one thing and _only_ one thing on his mind and that was this showbag. So when he reached his destination his heart leapt with joy when the cashier informed it was the last one. Anakin punched the air in triumph. And in his celebration he noticed a young child standing off to the side glumly watching as the final showbag was slid closer to Anakin over the counter. Just as the cashier was about to name the price, Anakin figured, _why not_ , and called out the kid asking if he wanted it. As soon as the boy nodded, Anakin stepped aside feeling a tad disappointed _but_ he’d been lying if he said he didn’t find the boy’s happiness rewarding.

When Obi-Wan finally caught up to him, Anakin had found another showbag to buy and was counting the amount of chocolates that came with it. Obi-Wan folded his arms, “Is that what you were so desperate to get? Chocolate? You know you can just buy some elsewhere.”

Anakin shrugged, “Nah, they ran out of the bag I wanted. Figured this was a good replacement.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Then something caught his eye and he moved closer to another animal based showbag display. Anakin scoffed, “I swear, if you’re a fan of Scooby Doo I’ve leaving this – uh – _outing_ immediately.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “I was just curious. How if this franchise still existing?”

It was at that point all the new fans for Scooby Do Obi-Wan came to realise existed came in like a tsunami to roll in and sweep the duo along. High pitch screams and squeals erupted their eardrums and by the time the tidal wave of children stilled like an easing tide, Obi-Wan and Anakin were a little bruised and one would suggest neither had bothered brushing their hair that morning. Anakin wasn’t really bothered with this but Obi-Wan grumbled as he attempted to style his hair with his fingers. Obi-Wan huffed, “Let’s just get the last showbags and then remove ourselves from this …”

“…fun? Innocent –?”

“ – _uncivilised_ place.”

Despite this fierce determination, it still took the two half an hour to buy their remaining showbags. Anakin found himself eternally grateful for the locker since one arm was tiring out and the other had him worried due to the excess weight of the bags. Anakin made room in the locker by taking out his half emptied fairy floss bag and soon enough Anakin’s six and Obi-Wan’s two bags were locked away. “Only two showbags?”

“Well, one of them is for Edie,” Obi-Wan answered. With his sister on his mind, Obi-wan switched on the camera and took a few photos of the carnival around him. The last shot had Anakin photo-bombing it with a goofy face. Anakin’s smirk dropped to the floor when Obi-Wan immediately sent the embarrassing picture to Edie, Padmé and Ahsoka.

~o0o~

Along their way to the Woolworth Grounds, Anakin soaked in the people amongst the crowd. He saw mewling babies, screeching toddlers, giggling young children, preteens adventuring on their own for the first time, teenagers taking comfort in their innocent outing free from high school, and adults that seemed to either be carefree adults or parents minding their kids. What grabbed Anakin’s attention the most were the amount of couples taking advantage of the joyous atmosphere to turn the temperature up a bit. Anakin momentarily panicked in his apparent unoriginality (would Obi-Wan find him boring for doing the same thing as everyone else?!) but was distracted by the vision of the large Ferris Wheel up ahead.

Confidence bubbled in Anakin’s chest. There was no better spot in the entirety of Sydney than the top of a Ferris Wheel to confess how one truly felt…

…well, maybe the Opera House was better.

And the Harbour Bridge too.

Hell, the Harbour itself was really pretty as well. Obi-Wan would probably really like that place. But not the seagulls. Those rats with wings would harass them for hot chips and then proceed to poop on their shoes. Plus Obi-Wan would definitely complain about the absorbent prices. But that wouldn’t matter, hopefully, because Obi-Wan would be so swept up in Anakin’s incredible flirting capabilities that the prices and seagull poop would mean nothing…hopefully. And –

“ – _Anakin!_ Earth to Anakin.”

Anakin snapped out of his musing. “Yes?”

Obi-Wan held out an arm before Anakin and prevented the young man from stepping any further. He gestured ahead and Anakin finally noticed the garbage bin he’d nearly walked into. “Oh, thanks.”

The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth lifted, “Don’t tell me you’re already bored of my company.”

Anakin smirked and played along, “ _No_ , never…

“…I was bored of you after the first five minutes of meeting you.”

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh and the two were about to continue walking when Anakin spontaneously grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and exclaimed, “You know that was a joke right? I didn’t really mean that.”

“Of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reassured. He purposely prevented the young man further embarrassment by ignoring the fact their hands were still clasped together. He instead simply let Anakin release their hands on his own and move on. As Obi-Wan quietly wondered if there was a better way to assure Anakin that he had done nothing wrong, Anakin fumed with himself for being so remarkably stupid.

Disliking the silence, Obi-Wan searched for something to say, “You know, I never told you why I was, well, unfair to you when you started.”

Anakin hesitated then cautiously answered, “ _Well_ , I mean, you don’t _have_ to. I admit I wanted to know but you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no, please, it’s better to tell you,” Obi-Wan replied, readjusting the bag on his back to sit more comfortably. He imagined that Anakin probably hadn’t woken up today thinking this conversation was going to prop up but here it was. Obi-Wan started, “You see, before I worked for Qui-Gon, there was of course another barista there and he was, the _star_ barista. I mean, the best of the best. He made the best coffees across the beaches. Far better than anything I could hope to make.”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrowed at that last and what he considered unnecessary comment. He grumbled, “Was he honestly that good?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Obi-Wan said. “I went there once with my parents when he was still working there. Xanatos was his name. He made an excellent mocha…but…” he grimaced, “You know that when we put an order into the cash register a docket prints out and we have to pin it? Tahl reads over them and checks the amount of money made to keep track of the café’s finances. Well, turns out Xanatos was taking money but wasn’t putting in an order, which meant there was no proof of this order and therefore no proof if money just so happen to disappear, because according to the cash register it never existed.”

Anakin’s eyes widened when he realised what Obi-Wan was saying. “Wait, you mean –”

“ –Xanatos was stealing money from them bit by bit,” Obi-Wan said gravely. “I’m not sure how much but to be fair, it could have been only a simple three dollars fifty stolen and still would have broken Qui-Gon’s heart. He got along well with Xanatos and was horrified to learn what he was doing. And the thing about Xanatos is…well… Xanatos started off with no experience and no skills to his name. He simply asked for a job and Qui-Gon gave him a chance.”

“So what, Qui-Gon thought there was a connection between the two?”

Obi-Wan struggled to form the next sentence but eventually it came in his need to defend his boss and the man who felt more like an extremely annoying uncle, “Keep in mind, he was distraught. Qui-Gon’s the type of person to put a lot of trust in people and doesn’t take it well when things go wrong. And he’ll do whatever he can to avoid that mistake again. Which was why he was so adamant about refusing to hire me unless I had the experience to back myself up.”

“Then, why did he change his mind with me?”

Obi-Wan rested his chin in his hand and thought for a few seconds, “He mentioned something about his dog finding a new toilet but in truth, I think he finally woke up to himself and realised he wasn’t being fair. You can thank Tahl for that.” A shiver ran up Obi-Wan’s spine when he saw Anakin was staring at him with an odd expression. “What?”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, “Only Tahl huh?”

“Yes, only Tahl,” Obi-Wan repeated, puzzled.

Anakin sighed softly. Their shoes clopped against the cobble ground for a few seconds when he concluded, “Nah, this Xanatos couldn’t have been that incredible at making coffees. You’re definitely better than him.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him but his eyes appeared elsewhere, peering over all the thoughts scrambling around in his brain. Obi-Wan spotted Warriewood Grounds up ahead and said before he lost his opportunity, “Alright, maybe his mochas weren’t that good. Yours are far better.”

~o0o~

“Hey Obi-Wan, you see that vegetable display with that farmer?”

“Which one? There’s numerous.”

“The one with a pumpkin for a head.”

“Yes? …No, _Anakin_ –”

“ –He kind of reminds me of you.”

Obi-Wan sighed loudly, “How many other orange coloured things are you going to find today that brings me to mind?”

Anakin positioned his phone and snapped a photo of the display. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed this part of the Easter Show. The Woolworth Grounds was mainly set up as one giant advertisement arena for the supermarket beast but at one end of the building there were a set of dioramas made entirely from fruits, vegetables and grains. Anakin especially liked the rolling green hills made from shiny green apples, the farm house strung together with wheat like the three little pigs story, and of course the collection of ‘farmers’ with pumpkin heads, cucumber limbs, rockmelon** torsos. Reading each description for the displays, he learnt which local farm was responsible for designing and providing the produce used to make the edible sculptures.

Spotting Obi-Wan waiting for his answer,  Anakin replied, “I’ll find something else. Probably a pretty orange cat in those beauty pet competitions. Though it won’t be as pretty as you– aaaaaaand, what’s that?” As Anakin retreated to another display, a miniature version of him in his brain was beating himself up, screaming in dismay at his continuous stupidity. _Just shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!_

Meanwhile Obi-Wan could only take in Anakin’s comment, behaviour and the blush on his cheeks, and simply shrug his shoulders releasing a small chuckle. To make the young man feel better, Obi-Wan bought him a plastic cup the size of a thumb and filled up with pure melted milk chocolate. Anakin’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. “How much was this?”

There was a twitch in Obi-Wan’s jaw. “Not saying,” he mumbled. “Just eat it.”

And so Anakin did. Quite gleefully as well. The two came upon the final vegetable display and admired the intricate art and the creative ways the produce was used…in fact, there was a _really_ creative way someone had used a carrot.

Obi-Wan looked at him in disgust when Anakin whispered it to him, “It does _not_ look like –”

“ –It does look like a dick and you _know it_!” Anakin snickered loudly.

~o0o~

In the following hour the number of photos on Obi-Wan camera went from five to fifty-six as he tried to capture every cake decoration and artwork being shown. The cakes appeared to have no strict guidelines beyond size restrictions, and so the artists went all out. One cake was shaped as a tic-tac box, with a bundle of colourful tic-tacs falling out of its opened lid. Another was the ballroom from Beauty and the Beast, with the main characters in mid-dance. Anakin’s favourite was between a motorbike and Pikachu cake. Obi-Wan sent a picture of a black pug cake to Qui-Gon. Two seconds later he received a squealing emoji. The cake that won the overall competition was large and round, grey with fine detail across its body. It was labelled the Death Star Cake.

“I want one,” Anakin gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Obi-Wan shot down. “You’d get sick.”

When the two left the Grounds they were met with a downpour. “ _Bugger_ ,” Obi-Wan hissed.

Anakin dug up the umbrella from the bag and popped it open.

Luckily for them, the petting zoo and beauty pet competitions were all undercover. Unfortunately the rain seemed to triple the stench emitting from the petting zoo. The strange dry straw, wet fur and feathers, animal droppings and foul breaths of the animals themselves, all made quite a statement against civility and common decency in Obi-Wan’s opinion but the opinion of a zookeeper was that it only made the experience three times more genuine. Obi-Wan bent down, refusing to rest his legs on the ground like many children around him, and petted a pig. It snorted and shuffled closer, nudging its nose against Obi-Wan’s hand. He would deny it but there was a part of him that almost died with joy at being chosen by this innocent pig.

Anakin found company with a trio of sheep. One was burying its head into his torso, another was munching on straw in his hand, while the last was bleating softly in his face. Anakin doubted his prosthetic was particularly good at giving pats and rubs but he tried his best and the sheep seemed to be enjoying it. That is until a grumpy goat barged in and moved them along like an old fellow disrupting those dang youngsters! Obi-Wan came up to him carrying a piglet in his arms and claimed that Qui-Gon would probably never leave if he ever came here. A child yelped with joy, running past with a group of scurrying chickens. Anakin pointed to an orange coloured chicken, “Hey Obi-Wan, that looks like –”

“ –will you _stop_?”

By around eleven thirty in the morning, with the rain having stopped again, Anakin and Obi-Wan had found seats in a large stadium. A crowd had gathered and all were waiting for the vehicle show to start. Anakin had bought a carton of hot chips and tomato sauce*** and was devouring them like a starved monster. At Obi-Wan’s stare he explained he had raced out the door that morning without breakfast due to his broken alarm clock.  He never got the chance to know whether Obi-Wan believed him or not because the show started. Everything seemed to fade away as Anakin focused entirely on the massive cars with huge tires, the crazy flexible motorbikes and the insane stunts involving tall ramps and even fire. Anakin almost grabbed Obi-Wan by the arm in excitement but remembered he had salt all over his fingers. So instead he thought back to his engineering degree and all the hard work he was putting into it. Just because the accident had done its damage to his body, his love for vehicles hadn’t disappeared. If anything, his passion had only intensified. Granted, that didn’t mean –

– Anakin paused when the motorbike slipped and the driver tumbled down the ramp. The crowd gasped but the driver quickly got to her feet and assured the audience she was okay. Anakin felt relief pool into him but the tight feeling around his chest, as though a strong wrestler was holding him in a painful hug, had yet to give way. When Obi-Wan called his name and tapped him on the shoulder, Anakin’s neck ached slightly when he turned to him. Obi-Wan’s smile fell, “You okay? You’re looking pale.”

“Uh... fine, really,” Anakin said slowly, carefully. Obi-Wan didn’t look convinced. “No, really, I just had a moment. That, um, accident… I had something similar when, you know…”

“ _Oh_ ,” Obi-Wan picked up their travel bag. “Do you want to go then?”

“No, no, no, no,” Anakin hastily said, grabbing the bag and pulling it down. “I love watching this stuff. I just have an episode occasionally. It’s…” Anakin spotted another driver just jump off their bike in time before the vehicle crashed to the ground. The crowd roared with delight. Anakin gulped, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan murmured and had no qualm holding Anakin’s hand as they left the stadium.

~o0o~

“I’m going on the rides,” Anakin announced standing up.

Obi-Wan ceased his chewing, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Anakin insisted with a grin. “You keep eating your lunch. I know you don’t like rides.”

Tapping his phone lying beside his plate of salad and burger, Obi-Wan said, “Keep in contact.”

To be fair on himself, Anakin didn’t mean to forget about his phone. He was simply having so much on the rides. The way the wind flung his hair around as though he was playing with a hair dryer. The way his stomach performed flips and twists like it was an ice skater, and the way exhilaration raced up and down his body as the ride soared and dived. Naturally Anakin was going to forget his phone was on silent. Of course he was going to get lost in the fun of it all. So really, Obi-Wan, there is no reason to look so cranky. And besides, “Look what I won in this game –”

“ –I’ve been trying to contact you for fifteen minutes.”

“ –It’s a Tigger toy!” Anakin showed it off. “And look, it’s orange. Kind of like –”

Obi-Wan shoved the toy into Anakin’s face. He still accepted the gift however. With barely any room left in the backpack, Obi-Wan had the Tigger toy sticking its head and arm out. It looked like it was waving at children passing by. The two turned a corner and came across the line to the Ferris Wheel. Anakin’s heart sped up. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for. Now was the time to let it all out. Sure, Obi-Wan probably won’t return his feelings and most likely do his best to forget it _but_ Anakin knew by now how used to this he was. He was ready with whatever happened… really.

“I’m going to get us tickets,” Anakin said, picturing the moment they’re at the top of the ride and able to see Sydney far and wide.

“You can go up,” Obi-Wan replied calmly. “I’m staying down here.”

Anakin froze, his thoughts slamming straight into a wall. “Umm… you don’t want to go on the Ferris Wheel?”

“…Yep, happy to stay down here.”

“W-why?” Anakin asked while a voice inside screamed, _SHIT! WHAT DO I DO?_

Obi-Wan at least had the decency to blush, “Oh, it’s silly. Just an old thing.”

“No, really, _why_?”

Noticing Anakin’s weird behaviour Obi-Wan relented, “When I was, what age was I? Oh yeah, fifteen, my family and I went America. We went to Disney Land and it was all well and good. And that very day we also went to this other carnival, it was called California Land or something like that. _And_ there was a Ferris Wheel… we didn’t realise the cartridges swung. I honestly thought the ride had broken and in my moment of panic thought we were all going to die. So…” Obi-Wan gave a stressed laugh and folded his arms tightly, looking embarrassed. “I haven’t been able to go on a Ferris Wheel since. That one completely traumatised me.”

Anakin swallowed thickly, “Oh. Sucks. Uh, this one doesn’t swing. So, maybe give this one a chance?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “ _No_ , absolutely not Anakin.”

“But…how do you expect to get better if you never go on it again?” Anakin tried grinning.

The grin looked awful in Obi-Wan’s view. “I’m perfectly content to never ‘get better.’ I can live just fine never going on a Ferris Wheel again.”

“But what about all those pretty views?” _And possible dates that want to admit their feelings to you?_

“I can live without those. Besides, what else is technology good for?”

“A photo on a phone isn’t an authentic experience though.”

“Are we really going to have a debate about the genuine experiences around technology, Ani? Because I promise you, I will win this.”

“ _No_ , I mean, this isn’t about technology. It’s about getting you to experience some cool shit.”

“I can deal without ‘cool shit’, as you so plainly refer to it! Goodness sake, I know being terrified of swinging around isn’t on the same level as your accident, but I didn’t force you to stay seated during that car show. I would appreciate it if you granted me the same curtesy.”

Anakin was practically tearing hair out of his head, “But then how am I supposed to tell you?!”

Obi-Wan gaped at him, “Tell me _what_? What could you possible say that needs to be said _up there_ and not _down here_.”

“…you’re right, I couldn’t run away on the Ferris Wheel if things went wrong.”

“An – a – kin”

Anakin sighed and his breath shuddered, “I’m trying to find the right mood.”

A noise emitted behind them. Obi-Wan smirked, “Mood? Look where we are. We’re at the Easter Show of all things. A kid just threw up behind us. This so-called ‘mood’ you’re hoping to obtain can no longer be repaired after hearing _that_ vile sound.”

Feeling bummed out about his failed plan, Anakin spies the sick kid. A bunch of adults were huddling around the poor quivering guy. Other children were running away, hands covering their mouths. In fact, everyone around them was quite distracted. And if the mood was already destroyed and never recovering then… Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, who was twisting the lid off a water bottle he must have collected from the backpack. Anakin wasn’t paying attention to Obi-Wan drinking from said bottle when he blurted out, “Can I kiss you?”

But he learnt very quickly when water sprayed all over him.

“Thanks.”

“Shoot, sorry Anakin.”

“It’s fine. I needed a shower. It’s been a while.”

“You better be joking,” Obi-Wan replied then smiled. “Because there’s no way I’m letting a grub kiss me.”

“…I had a shower last night. _And_ this morning. I am super clean.”

Obi-Wan tightened the lid on the bottle then looked up at Anakin, “In that case, by all means.”

And at that, Anakin leaned down and pressed his lips to Obi-Wan’s. He immediately concluded there was no way Obi-Wan didn’t moisturise his lips, the liar! At least it paid off. Anakin jumped when he felt Obi-Wan kiss him back. Breaking the kiss, Anakin muttered in disbelief, “You kissed back? Wow, wasn’t expecting _that_.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a few seconds before saying, “Oh _Anakin_.” It sounded like he was disappointed in him but that thought went out the window when Obi-Wan kissed him again. A whisper met Anakin’s ear, “Don’t ever think like that again.”

“…same to you then.”

Both left the Easter Show in agreement. And far happier than when they entered.

~o0o~

It was Wednesday and the Pug Plant Café had cooled down from its breakfast rush.

Qui-Gon and Tahl were seated by the window with the sea-salt breeze rolling in and rustling their hair. Cinderella was snoozing loudly on Qui-Gon’s lap, kicking and mumbling in response to her dream. Qui-Gon grazed his fingers over her fur and sipped his lemon-grass tea. Tahl meanwhile was enjoying her cinnamon tea and romance gothic novel, pleased that Sydney’s temperature was at its most perfect today before the storms and Antarctic winds blew in tomorrow.

Ahsoka was eagerly offering a customer her first finely crafted drink. She had finally nailed down boiling the milk and easily produced the prettiest designs for her coffees. Padmé was said customer, waiting at the café until it was time for her massage appointment across the street. She took a long sip and complimented Ahsoka on a job well done. She then showed the girl the politics assignment she was current working on.

Anakin overheard the exchange and bit his tongue as he began to pour his coffee. He hadn’t quite made it to Ahsoka’s level yet but every day he got closer. It especially helped that he had a damn good teacher. But he was also a damn good learner. Speaking of the teacher, Obi-Wan was leaning against the benches, messaging his sister as she cooed over the photos of the Easter Show he had sent. Her favourite picture being that of a large ginger cat. _Text received at 11:45 -that cat kind of reminds me of you._

Obi-Wan didn’t know how to answer that. He was saved when a middle-age woman entered the café. Anakin picked up a pen and called out a greeting. Obi-Wan reached out and held Anakin’s hand, away from everyone’s sight. Yes, everyone working at the café knew of their relationship but he was never the type to openly display his emotions. Unlike Anakin who felt the need to remind everyone what he thought of his new boyfriend almost every hour. At least his mother, step-dad and brother didn’t mind. But with their hands like this, they could meet, they could bask in each other’s comfort, and no one would know otherwise thanks to the counter.

Trusting Obi-Wan didn’t need Anakin’s writing hand to mark down the order, Anakin simply asked the middle-age lady what she wanted.

“Oh, it’s a bit complicated. Do let me know if you can do it or not.”

Anakin shrugged, “Who knows. What is it?”

“Well, okay, I would like a mug decaf latte. But with one quarter soy, one quarter almond milk, one quarter skim milk, and one quarter hot water. With a tiny bit of foam and chocolate on the top. A sprinkling of sugar. Not a full spoon please. How about half. And only fill three quarters of the mug filled please. Can your barista do it?”

With every description, Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s grip on his hand tighten. He could also feel Qui-Gon, Tahl, Padmé and Ahsoka watching and waiting. Anakin turned to Obi-Wan who flashed him a smile and followed it was a reassuring squeeze of the hand.

Anakin turned the lady, “Of course Obi-Wan can do it.”

That squeeze turned into a choke.

The lady gasped in delight, “Oh that is wonderful. Thank you so much!”

Obi-Wan dropped Anakin’s hand and moved over the coffee machine grumbling under his breath. Anakin grinned sharply and accepted the money. Just as Obi-Wan started gathering the grinded coffee beans for the shots, Anakin gave the customer a wide smile and said, “I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that again, please.”

-END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAND we are done! I actually finished this! Yay!
> 
> P.S. The story that happened with Xanatos... actually happened at my cafe before I was hired there. My boss was so upset :(   
> Also, Obi-Wan's story about that Ferris Wheel at California Adventure Park, happened to me. I can never go on a Ferris Wheel ever again. I was so terrified. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and/or given kudos to this fic. I can now concentrate on Warmth...or write another Star Wars fanfic I had recently thought of. Oh the choices. (But seriously, I will get back to Warmth since the next chapter's plan is all written)


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